Path of Decision
by lulu42
Summary: Voldemort is in power, but the Wizarding World fights back. Harry Potter, Master of Death, is faced with a choice, move forward or change everything? Sandman Crossover COMPLETED!
1. Prologue

_**Disclaimer! **__Harry Potter does not belong to me. The Sandman does not belong to me_.

**Part One **

**"D" stands for Many Things **

Summary: Harry Potter became an assassin because of his Aunt Petunia. He became a Slytherin because of himself. He became powerful because of The Endless.

* * *

Delirium, Desire, Despair, Destruction, Dream, Death, and Destiny are the family of the Endless.

They are not mortal, and their power is certain, as long as there are things to inhabit their realms they will exist.

And like all families, they are slightly dysfunctional. Sometimes the youngest play games with mortals in order to pass the time, but for the most part they stick to themselves.

They are not gods, they are far more terrifying and powerful.

This is how Harry Potter conquered them.

* * *

**A/N **_It is not necessary to have read The Sandman to understand this. I explain most of what you need to know, you just have to be patient.  
_


	2. Ch 1 Six of Seven

**Six of Seven**

Voldemort crossed the doorway of the Potter home. There was a flash of green light and James fell to the floor. Voldemort climbed up the stairs to search for the child, unaware of a young woman dressed in jeans and a black tank top standing by the banister. There was a large sliver ankh around her neck, and her hair was dark and long. She approached the fallen form of James, bending down to tap him, her fingernail scraping slightly against his forehead. James Potter suddenly appeared by her, blinking rapidly, twisting his body to look at the stairs.

"Hello, James. I'm Death. Ready to move on?" She gave him a smile, eyes curving up slightly.

James turned to look at the woman next to him.

"You're Death? Er… you seem a bit… cheery. More than I thought anyway."

"To be fair, I used to be like that. But it seems a bit silly now. Everyone meets me eventually. Don't worry about your family, there's nothing you can do for them now. You just have to trust in them. Things will work out." She neglected to mention the feeling that she would soon need to be upstairs herself. James Potter took one last look at the stairs and turned to Death.

"Well, I do like an adventure. Lead on." He took her hand and they flickered away. A moment later and Death appeared once again, heading up the stairs. Entering the nursery she saw the villain, Lily Potter, and her son. But what caught her attention was her sister: Despair.

Despair was short, her skin was gray, and she wore no clothes (for how could Despair not be naked?). It was not unusual for Despair and Death to encounter one another, suicidal people made certain that they kept in touch when performing their duties.

"_Stand aside foolish girl."_

Despair looked up to Lily, rubbing her hands together with anticipation. "She despairs that her son will die. Such sadness and grief. Ah, here comes our sibling."

"That is because she desires, she wants her son to live. It is so rare to feel such want from these little creatures. Greetings Death." Desire spoke. Desire was not a male or female, only fools would try to confine her to one of these forms. Despair and Desire were twins.

"Hello Despair, Desire. So she has a strong will then? They tend to be the difficult people to move on," said Death

"_Avada Kedavra."_

Death bent down and tapped Lily's forehead. She appeared and grasped Death's wrist.

"Please stop him, you must help Harry!"

Death peered into Lily's eyes and saw the plea and fear in her eyes. She turned to her twin siblings and spoke in a clipped tone.

"So she is still yours then? You know I can't take her if still belongs to you. Lily, do you want to stay then and become a ghost? James is waiting for you."

Lily shook her head. "I must see what happens to Harry. I have no problem moving on, can't it just wait a moment?"

Death hesitated then nodded. It wasn't as if she was asking for much.

Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at the child. The green light hit Harry's forehead the same time that Death's finger made contact, and just as she was about to lift her hand she felt Lily's two hands wrap around hers.

"Not my son!"

Death was the most powerful of the Endless, but she was caught off guard. Normal humans were not a match for her power, but Lily was still in the grasp of Desire and Despair and those two combined made things difficult for Death. She pressed her finger down as she struggled to gain control of her hand, but Lily was having none of it. Their push and pull struggle caused a small jagged line to appear under Death's fingernail. Just when it appeared that Death would win, her eyes caught sight of a cloaked figure behind Lily, causing her to withdraw her hand, connecting with the killing curse and sending it back to its caster.

Lily's eyes shone with triumph, and with her task complete, she moved on.

In one moment the curse would connect with Voldemort, but time to the Endless is a curious thing. For them, it moves at the same pace as any other person in the world. But they have been around since the dawn of the universe, and because of this they view it in a different way.

The cloaked figure who appeared was blind, and chained to him was a heavy book, in which all of history, present, and future was contained.

"Why are you here Destiny?" Even as she spoke Death was aware that she was asking quite a few questions today, something that poked a her pride. But Destiny, the eldest sibling, rarely left his garden realm. For him to appear in the bedroom of a one year old, well, Death could not dare to guess the importance of this.

"Harry Potter is to stay here." There was weight behind Destiny's words, despite the soft tone. A noise of pleasure escaped from Despair's throat, it sounded like a puppy being smothered like a pillow. Desire peered out from beneath dark hair, golden eyes glinting.

"Do you mean to tell me that sister and I have bested Death?"

Death felt annoyance rise in her. The twins liked to play games, and Delirium would follow along because she was the youngest and she liked games. But to get the others to accept was another matter. Dream could be baited at times, but it was only by wounding his pride. And while this was not a challenge, leaving the child made Death unsettled.

"No need for that face sister dearest, it looks like you will get the other one," Desire cooed pointed out the green light on its slow path to Voldemort.

"As if you couldn't tell this wizard has tied his life down, surely his want to live has registered your attention?" Death couldn't help but snap back. Desire frowned.

"It is not that Voldemort wants to live, so much as he does not want to die. The only thing that he has every wanted is power, and that is what he has. He fears death, so he belongs more to Despair than I." Despair seemed surprised by this statement, and shaking her head.

"No, he does not belong to me either. I remember a small boy similar to this one who had a great deal of fear of death. It used to consume him so, and everyday I could look at him from behind my mirrors." Despair rubbed at her grey skin, her fingernails digging in. "But one day, it was as if the mirror was shattered, and I could not sense him anymore." Death knew that was when Tom Riddle made his first horcrux.

She was mildly surprised to find out that not only did that seem to keep him away from her, but from her siblings. Things with Former-Riddle were complicated, and with Harry Potter living despite her attempts, things were going to be even more convoluted. (Death refused to call him Voldemort, even if he wasn't entirely human anymore. No one could escape her and she refused to humor that thought.) Part of her just wanted to reach out and take Harry away, to shield him from the broken man behind her.

As if sensing, Death's conflict, Destiny repeated, "He stays."

Arguing with Destiny was an exercise in futility, especially since he always knew what you were thinking.

"Very well. Harry Potter will live for now, unharmed by my hand."

"Oh I don't think unharmed is the right word. Something broke I think. I knew what it was when it broke, but now that it has, I don't." Delirium had appeared in the room, tugging at a shock of pink hair, causing it to stick up even higher amongst her multi-colored locks. "It's so nice that we are having a family meeting, but I think it was strange that no one told Dream we were having one, so I called him over so he would come. Hello Dream!"

Dream was now there as well, tall and somber, a faint expression of surprise on his face upon finding all of his family in the room when heeding Delirium's call.

Six of the Endless in one space was a rarity. Destiny, old as anything, preferred to keep to his garden, and Dream harbored a long grudge towards Desire. On prearranged times they had gathered, but never spontaneously like this. Only one was missing, but Destruction had turned his back on them long ago. But as Death watched the killing curse connect and the walls and the roof crumble from the force of it, she could not help but feel as if he was here as well. Maybe not in the room with them, but nearby, there was no doubt.

Who was this boy to summon them here? It was certainly not the shell of a man who had power, all of the Endless were facing the child.

"Broken? Delirium, The boy is still whole! Voldemort, now he's broken," Desire said raising a painted finger at the soul fragments floating in the room. Delirium shook bit her lip, looking at her siblings before confessing.

"He was a man, then he turned into a snake and I got scared so I hid. When I came back, he was gone. I thought he went away. But I guess he just hid too." Dream had been silent since arriving, but now spoke, a tone of impatience in his voice.

"He has visited my realm of Dreaming precious few times. He does not see the power of dreams and places no significance of stories. And when he does, it is always a manifestation of power. He has not interfered with me yet, but I have kept an eye on him."

Dream was master of all of the stories, and his temper was the most frightening. That anyone would view his power as insignificant would have infuriated him. He was a master of manipulation, and Death had a feeling that Dream had already taken steps in retaliation. Death would have felt sorry for Former-Riddle, if he had not shredded his soul. Death loved everyone, but the most she could muster was apathy. He was not really a person anymore.

Despair grinned with crooked teeth, "He despairs now. Oh yes he does. And just as I thought, no body, and no voice, he is but an echo." She had a hook on a ring, and dug it into her arm, causing blood to trickle down.

Delirium walked to the faint pieces of soul. As if sensing her presence it swooped down on her. Covering her eyes with one arm, she reached out to bat at the pieces with her the other. She was successful, with one piece soaring out of the house, but sending the other into Harry.

"Oooh! Oh no!" Turning to Destiny, she began to speak rapidly.

"I didn't mean to do that, so please don't get mad at me. But, no, wait… you have your book with you,

and you always have your book with you, and you knew that I would do that,

so if I wasn't supposed to do that, then I wouldn't have, and you would have stopped me,

like you stopped Death, so I was supposed to do that,

so everything is okay. Okay!"

If Destiny had not appeared in the room, Death would have taken the boy away. And he had not stopped Delirium from being in this room. The man-that-was-once-Tom-Riddle was tied to the child; Harry was now a horcrux. And what was more important, he was supposed to be a horcrux.

Death could feel a headache growing; twisting plots were more of Dream's thing. Death could see his hand in this, however faint it might be. It maybe retaliation against Tom Riddle, she mused. Dream was close only to Death, he preferred to keep others aloof. The idea of him helping her with that jerk was a pleasant thought. But the only person who currently had power over Former-Riddle was Destiny, any plans that Dream had were years in the future, perhaps when the boy had grown up.

It looked like all of the Endless had entwined Harry Potter into something.

Death felt cold. She wished she had her Cloak.

Looking at the faces of her siblings, she could see that they all felt a little bit of claim to the boy just as much as they were to distance themselves from Tom Riddle.

"Who is this boy? If he's important, I want him first," said Desire.

"You want everything. He's Harry Potter."

"I asked _who_ he was, not what his name is Delirium."

"Same thing,"replied Delirium.

Destiny spoke, "He will conquer."

It was easier taking a secret from the dead than it was from Destiny. No one dared ask what would be conquered. The silence hung in the air, and then Dream spoke.

"If it is to be, then perhaps it is best if he remembers. His mind is too young to grasp this, but when he sleeps, I will make certain that he understands."

"Ooh, that's very nice of you Dream." Delirium tickled Harry's cheek, causing him to squirm. "I like that he will remember me."

Then they were gone.

* * *

**A/N:** This is a broad introduction to The Endless. If you are a bit confused, don't worry. I introduce them slowly and properly in the coming chapters, and the story mostly focuses on Harry. There is a link on my profile to an illustration if you would like a visual reference.


	3. Ch 2 Three Last Weeks

**A/N: The first section for the next few chapters tell of Harry's history, going backwards to help you get a sense of who Harry is.**

**Three Last Weeks**

* * *

_Nine-year-old Harry Potter belonged to Despair. He hated his life and wish that someone would do him the grand favor of ending it. He sat in the corner of his room and waited. He had waited a lot,and because of this he learned of patience. There had been a great deal of noise outside of his room earlier, but he dare not investigate what the cause was. He heard the latch click and saw the doorknob turn. A tall man stood framed in the doorway, light colored hair, dark clothes and mask covered face. He was not the person Harry expected._

"_So you are the person they've been training. How… disappointing," the voice had a lazy tone, and they may have been a hint of amusement. Then again, Harry might have imagined it; he imagined a lot of things._

"_Been? I… Wha…?" Harry sputtered until he caught sight of the blade in the man's hand._

_The blood was fresh and Harry understood that the thumps he had heard earlier belonged to the only other two people in the house. This man killed the two people that he had believed were invincible. Part of Harry wanted to make a run for it, and part of him hoped that death would be quick._

_The man took a step forward and Harry caught a whiff of copper, and in his mind he could see where the blood first came from._

"_You've caused quite a few deaths, and people are concerned. So what I want to know is what do you have to say about it?"_

**Look death straight in the eyes and stand proud **

_It was a phrase that Harry was very familiar with. When the world turned red, Harry had no trouble holding his knife straight; and he could ignore the sounds of cracking bone, and the faint sound of breathing. It was easy because sometimes he felt as he had been touched by Death herself. _**They**_ had always scoffed when Harry said Death was female, but it was a habit Harry continued. But now there was no lesson, no familiar phrase to echo in his head to answer for all of the guilt that dragged down Harry's soul. He felt as if a hook had grabbed at his heart, and he could barely breath because of it._

"_I think they might be right, sir. I didn't want to… it just… they… and I couldn't…" Harry was ashamed that for all of his training, he could not seem to speak a straight sentence. The man took a step back, standing in the doorway again._

"_You have two choices. The dead cannot be brought back to life. You can either move on with your life, or you could see that their lives, and your training is not wasted. You could also try to continue with your current ways, but I'm afraid that I won't be an option as long as I'm around."_

_Harry stared at the man for a moment, before murmuring, "Either one is fine."_

_The man turned and walked way. Harry continued to look at the doorway until the man's voice called out. "Get up. I was hoping to get something to eat sometime today." Rising to his feet, Harry did not spare a last glance to the bodies on the ground, or the house where he had lived for two years._

_Harry Potter had just discovered redemption, and thus he conquered Despair._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Everyone spends time with the Endless, visiting their realms, but having a conversation with them was another matter. Despite their abilities, wizards had little personal contact with Endless. Muggles had more, not because they were better, but because they were less arrogant. Arrogance is an easy way to get under the skin of the Endless.

Despair stayed in the shadows. The bigger they are, the harder they fall. Wizards fell hard.

Delirium had once made great friends with Barnabas the Barmy. But dancing trolls were amusing as they were scary. And Wendelin the Weird liked to make fun of her hair, so she tended to stay away.

Desire did not like to meet them. She (or he) wanted them to come to him (and her). Instead a there was a whisper in one man's ear to give him a secret. With this knowledge, he created a mirror that would trap people in The Threshhold, Desire's Realm.

Wizards visited Dream every night, but he did not seem them as different as Muggles. There were rare occasions that wizards recognized him, and when they did, Dream rewarded them. He made them into legends.

Seers would visit Destiny in his garden and they would not speak. Instead, they would get a brief glimpse of his book before he sent them away. And when they returned, they would have given a prophecy, but with no knowledge of it.

Death met three brothers.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry Potter was ten and had just arrived in Paris after his usual month long visit to Privet Drive. He looked at the people on the busy street and gave a small smile. Things this year had been so different, and he could hardly believe it. It had been difficult, part of him still cringed at how hard it was, but he managed to pull it off. His life became less like an act and more like reality as time went on. Harry felt like a normal boy. He had not made any friends at the school he went to, but they didn't give him glances of fear. The most likely cause was his pathetic French.

It was better that way, friends might have notice how difficult it was for Harry to fit in a normal environment. If anything had noticed, they probably attributed it to the fact he was foreign. As Harry went up to his apartment he saw someone wearing a long dark coat and talking to a dog. He had been introduced himself once but Harry couldn't remember the man's name, partly because it was when Harry barely knew French, and partly because the man was insane.

But the man had taken a shine to Harry, ever since the day Harry handed the dirty fork he had stuffed in his pocket after eating lunch. Why he had kept it and given it to the crazy man was a mystery, but it had paid off. Sometimes Harry would discover he had not gone to the store, only to open the door and find the man standing there with a grocery bag of his favorite things. Harry found it appropriate that a crazy man was the closest thing he had to a friend. Sometimes he didn't feel too sane himself.

He entered his room, unsurprised to find his guardian sitting in a chair. The man wasn't in Paris often, but it was summertime and Harry had not killed anyone in a whole year. It was a great improvement from his previous behavior and instincts. (Harry had never learned the man's name, and he had not volunteered it, names made people real, and Harry had a suspicion this man would not stay long.) But to his surprise there was no mention of blood, death, or shadows.

Instead the man asked if he was keeping up with his meditation. Harry made a face, meditation was little action, and he hated to do it. He was a more physical sort of person. But the first day he managed to forget the screaming from the tall, thin, man; Harry became a believer. His diligence paid off and he managed to pull the broken shards of himself back together. He had strong will now, and believed what his guardian had said: To truly know yourself, is to become powerful. That meant that admitting his strengths and faults, and accepting help when needed.

The guardian was gone the next morning, leaving behind a note: _Enjoy your time. We leave in three weeks_. So Harry did. He spent some time observing the tourists, imitating them, and sometimes stealing their wallets. He didn't need any money, he did it for the thrill, to teach tourists a practical lesson in observation, and because old habits die-hard. When he was uncomfortable in his own skin he pretended to be a tourist, traveling to the museums, and landmarks. But most of the time Harry sat outside eating a giant bowl of ice cream and reading stories. He appreciated all kinds, but fairy tales had the added advantage of having hidden messages in them, of morality and courage. It was a habit that his guardian had encouraged, for it was a small way that Harry to gain the childhood he never really had.

Three weeks ended, then the letter came.

Harry was flipping through the standard mail, before feeling coarse heavy parchment in his hands. (If he had known about the Endless, Harry would have known that it was heavy because it was from Destiny's book.) His hands broke the seal, and his eyes settled on the first sentence: "Dear Mr. Potter…."

Harry's mind swam with questions, so much that he couldn't think straight. When he thought he saw a tropical fish float by his third floor window, Harry knew he had to calm down. So he grabbed a pen and started writing things down, his strengths, his weaknesses, and his questions. He heard a knock on the door, and he hastened to finish his last sentence, "Where do I get an owl?" The door opened, and there stood his guardian, a bird on his shoulder.

"I'm assuming that you have some questions for me?" the man said.

Harry grinned, scratched off the last line, and started to rattle off his list.

* * *


	4. Ch 3 Wand Number Last

**Chapter Three- Wand Number Last**

_Harry Potter may have just turned nine, but had already killed many people. At first he tried to keep track of them all, but it got harder when it got into triple digits. His mind was confused, and while it was easy at first, _**They**_ had started making him go out and kill more than one at a time. At least Harry could promise the victims an instant death; most didn't even know he was there. _

_Their last moments were peace, maybe joy, which is something _**They**_ never gave. Harry had tried to run away before an assassination once, but that was a mistake he wouldn't repeat. He never tried to kill himself though, part of him was looking forward to the day when he was certain he could take on _**Them **_and win._

_It was the only dream he had, and even Harry knew it was not a very good one._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**July 28**

Eighteen months had passed since Harry meet his guardian, and although he had questions, he had been trained to be patient, and find answers in observations. And as far as he could determine, his guardian did not seem to have any special interest in him, he was just biding his time. It was more responsibility than interest. (It was one of the reasons he never asked for the man's name, it was best if he kept him at a distance.) But now the man explained that Harry was a wizard, and he was to be sent to a school with others. The two men (monsters) who had taught Harry had magic too, but they should not have met Harry at all, and very few people knew what really had happened.

"It wasn't until the rumors of a young boy spread that the leaders sent someone to investigate. You are famous around the world, the shock I received to find it was you was enormous. We were loathed to kill you, fighting with wizards was not our intention; it was just the work of two unfortunate men." To this, the man curled his lip, distaste on his face. Harry felt a small flutter of joy, the guardian rarely let any emotion other than amusement or boredom cross his face.

"It was a great relief to me to find that you were a little unstable, but with some guidance things would work out. Which is why I insisted you meditate so much." He ruffled Harry's hair. "Now I think its time you knew about your history." And with that, the man explained about Voldemort, his parents, and how he survived something that no one ever had before.

"As far as the leaders know, the curse shattered your magic, which explains why you can do things no other wizard can do. Your senses are sharper, you are more intuitive, and you can channel magic through your whole body. The magic that you will be taught is different at the school. For one, you will have a wand to channel your energy. This difference is caused by genetics, and you have an advantage of being able to do both. However, you would be, at best, mediocre where I come from."

They headed off to London the next day, and Harry was eager to find out more. He made certain to cover up his scar, blending in with the crowd was something he was accustomed to, the idea that he was famous made him a bit ill. The first stop they made at Diagon Alley was a Gringotts. His guardian pulled out a key to Harry's vault and handed it to him, Harry wondered how he got it. It reminded Harry that he was a pathetic thief compared to the tall man next to him.

Rather than feeling gloomy, he put his focus on the goblins. To be put in charge of the banking system was an important role, Harry knew that they must be the best. Dragging his eyes across the warning etched at the doorway he read.

E_nter stranger, but take heed, of what waits the sin of greed,_

_For those who take, but do not earn, Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors, A treasure that was never yours,_

_Theif, you have been warned, beware Of finding more than treasure there._

Harry could feel the magic shifting in place, giving the goblins power. Harry knew wouldn't be pulling any stunts like he did in Paris here, it just might get him killed.

A short ride later and Harry was ready to start shopping. Freedom was something he was still becoming used to and it took some encouragement to get more items than those just on the list. He added some extra books, but that was the most courage he could muster. Maybe next year he would do a proper shopping trip after he learned which items would be the most useful. His guardian slipped out for a bit while Harry was being fitted for robes, not that blamed him. Harry was uncomfortable because the seamstress kept poking him with her needle. Two years ago he would have smashed the woman's head by instinct.

Grateful when she was finished, he scurried out the door. Harry found the guardian waiting outside, a small package in his hand, and he handed it to Harry. He stared at it for a minute, stunned. The man had never given him anything before; everything he was due to obligation. When he unwrapped the object, he found in his hand a pocket knife, it looked pathetic compared to the one's Harry already owned.

"This knife is enchanted to open any lock. It thought it would be an appropriate gift for you, it seems like you haven't quite gotten over your stealing addiction." Okay, so not pathetic, useful. Harry wondered how much he was watching him in Paris. He flushed, and flicked it open once before he placed it into his pocket. There was only one stop left, the wand shop.

However, the owner of the place tensed immediately when catching sight of the tall man.

"You! What are you doing here? I cannot help you. Your type aren't allowed, wands aren't even useful. I'll have to inform the Ministry about this."

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just here as an escort for Harry here. No need to panic." Ollivander's eyes flicked towards Harry, who tried to assume a reassuring expression. It didn't work. Maybe a small grin? This was successful because the wandmaker's shoulders relaxed and soon a measuring tape was whipping in the air. Satisfied with his results, Ollivander preceded to hand wand after wand to Harry, with increasingly bizarre results. After giving his guardian a small sneezing attack, Harry refused to pick up the next wand.

"Can't you just give me the last wand you would reach for? It's going to be the last one you pick, you should have picked that one first."

Ollivander looked at Harry. "Don't presume young man. The wand chooses the wizard, and to treat it with less respect than it deserves is a grand mistake. But I will make allowances this once so you can see for yourself. But if it is not a match, I hope you will learn to treat my process with respect." Then he stepped into the bookshelves and headed towards the back of the store. Harry felt chastised, and did his best to ignore the knowing look his guardian was giving him. He should have known better than to question a man who had dedicated his life to wands.

Ollivander returned carrying a small box covered in dust. "This wand is one of the most rare and powerful I have created. But, perhaps you…" He trailed off. Ignoring the intent look on the wandmaker's face, Harry lifted the lid and the world slowed. His eyes looked around the room, trying to see what was different. He caught glimpse of a woman with dark hair and she gave him a wink. A flash of red sparks lather and she was gone.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Death had an appointment at a bookstore. There was an old man who would pick up a cursed book, and it would be the last thing he read. She saw the customers milling about when she went inside. Her eyes caught sight of a children's book, _The Story of The Boy-Who-Lived_. She flipped through it, and she saw that is was accurate, even though it did not grasp the amazing power in the room that night. Dream had already decided to make the boy a legend, which was a surprise. Despair used to brag about him, although she had been quiet about it of late. Harry visited Delirium quite frequently, and she seemed more cheerful that she had been in a long time, babbling about forks, rainbows, and floating window fish.

And Desire loved to exclaim how Harry would want so strongly, so fiercely, that he blazed like the sun before disappearing. "So like his mother. I never sense him building up, he appears for a moment, wanting everything in the world and then pops away. It's a nice surprise that I will never get tired of. I'll have him stay here. You'll see."

Death was feeling left out. But there was little connection she could forge with the boy, she only saw people at the beginning and end of their lives. And while he had sent plenty of people to her, it wasn't the same. She frowned and looked around the store, the old man should be here now. And then she saw Harry in the store, a basket full of books, and heading her direction. Feeling a bit embarrassed for the boy, Death stood in front of the _Boy-Who-Lived_ display, and saw his eyes gloss right over it. Instead, he walked over to a bookcase, and after glancing through the tome he picked, dropped it in the basket with the others. Death got a glance of the cover, _The Tales of Beedle and the Bard_. A small fleck of a plan formed in her head, she had been holding back on it for centuries, perhaps now it was time. It would require some assistance from Dream, but she was confident that he would oblige.

After helping the old man move on, Death made a quick visit to her brother, and her confidence was rewarded. She made another stop to Diagon Alley, wanting to get another glimpse of the boy. He was in a wand shop, and she saw Harry's eyes widen as they caught sight of her. His eyes were a brilliant green, and appropriate detail that she never noticed before. Feeling confident in her plan, Death couldn't held but give him a wink before she left.


	5. Ch 4 Platform Nine and Three Quarters

**Chapter Four **

**Platform Nine and Three Quarters**

_Harry was eight when he spoke to Dream. He would not remember the conversation when he woke up. The only thing he held was his conviction that certain truths could be found in stories, and one day he would prove it._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Dream had to go visit Beedle the Bard. He was a fine storyteller, who could capture beauty, horror, and power in his words. Dream felt that this man could capture his sister's story in an appropriate manner, a gift for a favor she had done him. He was not disappointed. The story of the Pervelle brothers was woven with a layer of morality so well, that people would not be able to tell the story without it. So when Death entered his library to ask for an addition to the story he was surprised. And while Death had held this plan close to herself; he could see the advantages of it.

Dream had already intended to place Harry Potter in a different legend; adjustments could be made. Death's request also had the added bonus of Voldemort's destruction. When wizards recognized Dream for who he was, he made them legends. It was rather unfortunate that Tom Riddle laughed at his power, declaring it frivolous, invaluable. Dream decided to create the legend of his defeat, patiently waiting for the person who would be the most vexing.

Appearing in front of Beedle, Dream spoke, "There must be an addition to the _Story of the Three Brothers_."

Beedle looked up from his parchment. "I'm sorry, I was under the impression that you were satisfied with it. The book is already among the masses, it may take some time before the people accept the addition." He ran his fingers through his hair, sweaty and unwashed.

"That is fine, for this part is best left to story tellers, and not story readers. It will be passed down from your lips, and never be written down. It involves the Deathly Hallows," said Dream.

And from that sentence, reality was shaped, and the story always existed.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**September First**

When Harry crossed the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters the first thing he noticed was that the Hogwarts Express was red. While it was a bit superstitious to believe that color held meaning, it helped ease the knot that had formed it his stomach. (Red was the color of blood, of life.) There were families of all sorts, shrieking, crying, and laughing. Milling about the crowd he noticed an older woman talking to a boy around Harry's age. It was the vulture hat that caught his eye; it was the toad on the boy's foot that made him stop.

"Excuse me but is that yours?" Harry asked pointing to the toad as it croaked. The boy looked down.

"Trevor! What is he doing out of his box? Thank you, for pointing him out, I would have lost him for sure." The boy spun around, and Harry took sight of his round face. His eyes were innocent, his body language was nervous; clutching his wand so hard that purple sparks appeared.

It struck Harry that this boy was someone that he could have been. Unprepared for the rush of envy, he turned on his heel and headed towards the end of the train. He loaded his trunk easily, and looked out the window at the parents and children saying goodbye. His guardian had left already, with a small pat to his head and a small reminder of meditation. Harry believed that it would be the last time he would ever see him.

He pulled out his potions text; it was one of the few subjects that did not require immediate practical application. He might learn something or the dry reading would knock him out cold, either way it would get his mind off of his anxiety of going to a magic school. He struggled to keep his eyes open, and was surprised when the compartment door opened to reveal a redheaded boy his age.

"Do you mind if I sit here? All of the other compartments are full."

Harry shook his head. "I do mind. You'll just have to strap yourself onto the roof."

Taking a step back, the boy's face turned red. Harry realized that he didn't recognize his humor. Damn his nerves! Tilting his head, Harry made an attempt at a sincere smile.

"It was a joke, sorry. I'm just a bit queasy right now, my first year. It came out a little more…erm…harsh than I intended."

The boy's face relaxed and a small laugh left his mouth. "I know what you mean. I'm a first year too. The name's Ron Weasley, and this here is Scabbers," lifting the fat, grey, rat in his hand.

Harry's neck prickled, ignoring the voice in his head (_Grey is Danger!!_). "It's nice to meet you. I'm Harry. Could you keep the rat away? I'm not fond of them. I had a bad experience." It was a truth that Harry could not remember. Ron nodded his head.

"I understand, most people aren't fond of them. He used to be my brother's, but he got an owl this year for being named prefect, so he is mine now. Scabbers here sleeps most of the time anyway."

Introductions complete Harry and Ron began to talk. They got along rather well, both enjoyed jokes. While Ron preferred quips, Harry leaned toward the art of sarcasm. And much to Ron's delight, Harry enjoyed corned beef sandwiches, and had no problem sharing them. So when Draco Malfoy and his friends Crabbe and Goyle appeared, both felt a little annoyed at the disturbance.

"I heard that Harry Potter is riding the train. And since this is the last compartment, I suppose that one of them must be you."

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron's mouth fall open. It was then that Harry realized that while Ron was excellent company, he was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. How many eleven-year-old wizards were named Harry? He would have to be patient with this one. Harry stood to his feet, took a breath and arranged his face into a mild expression, looking into Draco's eyes. They were grey.

"I'm Harry and that's Ron. And you are?"

"Draco Malfoy. I just wanted to welcome you back to the wizarding world. You might not know this, but there are different types of people out there and you'll find that some of them are better than others. I can help you with that if you want." Then he extended his hand.

Harry looked at the hand hesitantly, if he listened to his gut feeling, it could cause him more trouble in the long run. Then again, he couldn't betray his morals either. So he did the only thing he could think of, he burst into laughter.

"Oh, that's funny. Very funny. I thought you were serious for a second. Could you imagine if I believed that rot? I'm the most famous wizard in the world, people in _Japan_ know my name. You would be _far_ inferior to me." He wiped the fake tears of laughter off of his face and shook Draco's hand.

"Thank you for the welcome Draco, see you in class." With that he shooed them out and shut the door, leaving the trio outside bewildered but pleased.

After Ron got over his shock of whom his best friend was, he wasted no time telling Harry about the Malfoy family. "I'm telling you, my dad claims that they were dark. He'll be sorted into Slytherin for certain." In his excitement, Ron managed to fling some Cauldron Cake out the window.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "And what's wrong with Slytherin? It's no surprise that dark wizards are frequent in that house. It's hard to be loyal and chivalrous if you're evil. But it's the house of cunning and ambition; I'm probably going to be there. Does that mean I can't talk to you anymore? Because if so, I'm going to have to ask you repay me for the food you just tossed out the window." He tossed in a smirk, hoping to ease Ron's shock. He tried to not let the anxiety show on his face.

The redheaded boy looked at him for a moment, then at the cake still in his hand.

"Well, I guess you are right. It's just going to be really hard for us to stay friends. I'll probably be in Gryffindor, my whole family is. And we have classes with our housemates, and we won't share a common room. There is bound to be some spare time for us, I guess we'll see what we can do. Besides," Ron popped the rest of the cake in his mouth. "You don't look evil."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just because I'm not wearing my evil button… Seriously though. I'm just saying you can't base people on appearances; everyone needs to be judged by their own merits. After all, _I _don't look like I've killed anyone." Horrified at his slip up, Harry became aware of how well he was getting along with Ron, if he forgot. He _never _forgot; the guilt wouldn't let him.

Ron paled, then let out a low chuckle. "Oh, you're talking about You-Know-Who. I thought for a second that…"Ron ruffled his hair. "Never mind, it's silly."

Harry gave a tight smile.

When Harry Potter was sorted into Slytherin that night, the only other person who saw it coming was his best friend.


	6. Ch 5 Seven People not named Harry

**Chapter Five**

**Seven People Not Named Harry**

_Harry Potter was turned eight today. He awoke from his sleep suddenly, his body curled on the floor. Groggily, he shook himself awake, looking around the dim room. A thought popped in his mind, and Harry reached for his feet in fear. A sigh of relief escaped, all of his toes were still there. Why in the world did he think his toes were missing?_

_He sat and waited, having nothing else to do in the empty room. A click of the latch and the doorknob turned. There stood two men, Harry did not know their names. Harry could not say what they looked like. He could see the form of the men and their faces, but in his memory they would fade away into blurry mixes of color. Harry said nothing and shuffled off to his training room. But before entering the room he paused and waited for the hand that was coming to land on his shoulder. It did, and a low voice spoke._

"_You have one hour. Happy Birthday."_

_The men behind Harry burst out in laughter, and the world around Harry exploded into green color as a blade was placed in his hand. He was shoved in the room and the door was locked. The color had faded away now and he could see clearly in the room. Inside it was a boy. His hands were tied, but other than that he looked unharmed. Harry had not spoken to anyone his age in months. Part of him was overjoyed, but it was firmly trampled by reality. The boy had only one hour to live before Harry was to kill him._

_Swallowing, Harry hid the knife and approached him. The boy eyes opened wide as he caught sight of him._

"_Please, help me! Those men out there they kidnapped me."_

_Harry nodded part of him feeling sorry for the boy, part of him relieved to finally have someone to share his fear and frustration. But his heart dropped into his stomach when his mind caught up with the situation. The boy had an accent, Australian perhaps? Dark, messy hair like him, and green eyes, and oh, god, they didn't do what he think they did? His fears were confirmed when the boy spoke, tears forming in his eyes._

"_But it's my ninth birthday! I want to go home! It's not fair… it's not fair!"_

_Harry threw his arms around the boy, giving him a tight hug. As soon as he felt the boy calm down, he withdrew his knife and ended it jammed it into the boy's neck. He could tell the death was instant, and for that Harry was relieved. He could have kept him alive for the hour, but he doubted he could keep up the lie. He spent the next hour pondering the message_** They**_ were trying to send. Great lengths had gone into finding not only someone who was exactly one year older than him, but looked like him. He could only think of one thing_

**You belong to us.**

_It would be several more months before Harry would talk to anyone his age._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Blaise Zabini was having a bad day because he was a friend of Harry Potter. Everyone was shocked when he was sorted into Slytherin. Draco Malfoy recovered quickly and had made room for him, explaining to everyone that he welcomed Harry back from the Muggles on the train. But Harry had coolly brushed off their acquaintance, it was something Blaise enjoyed, Draco was a bit self-centered. And Harry sat near him in every class, and they had begun to seek each other out during meals, which lead to being friends.

Which lead to Blaise's bad day.

It wasn't that Harry was unpleasant, his dry humor made Blaise laugh. It wasn't if he was stupid, despite his poor performance in class. It was because after the five days that he spent eating, laughing and sitting next to Harry, that he realized something. Harry was a lot like his Blaise's mother.

He went to the Great Hall determined not to end up like one of his numerous stepfathers (rich men who had all died in mysterious deaths). Then he saw Harry at the table, mouth open at the pictures from a Quidditch book. When he caught sight of Blaise, he gave a cheeky wave.

They say to keep your friends close, keep your enemies closer. So Blaise sat down next to Harry anyway.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Ernie Macmillan was having a fantastic day, and he figured out it have everything to do with Harry Potter. He had sat next to him in Astronomy, by chance, and he had been reaping the rewards. Harry was polite and funny, and humble, something that really impressed Ernie. He was the best friend of Ron, proving that loyalty could be found beyond House lines. Harry was an awful student, but Ernie wasn't fooled, he believed Harry was also one of the smartest people in the class.

Because when handing in assignments, Harry would give Ernie a wink and go first, and when your essay comes after the abysmal work of one Mr. H. Potter, you were guaranteed to look like a genius.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Minerva McGonagall was having a bad day. The fifth years complained loudly about the amount of homework she had given them and the third years were not focused today, many of them had just had Divination for the first time. The first year class was presently with her, and she cast her eyes around to look at them. Transfiguration was not an easy and she was delighted to find out that there were quite a few students in this class who had a talent in this field. Her eyes landed on the first year with messy hair, and she let out a small sigh. She had been looking forward to see what kind of student Harry Potter would be. In her many years of teaching, she had seen only a handful of students with the talent in her class that James Potter had.

And while she was aware that parents and children are not obligated to have the same talents, this had let her down. It was two weeks into the term and she had yet to see Harry perform a flicker of magic. Neville Longbottom taken time, but she had a feeling that his difficulty arose from a lack of confidence. But Harry seemed sure of himself, and while she was loathed to call attention to it, enough time had passed that she had little choice. To top it off, Harry was in Slytherin, with Severus, of all people, as his Head of House. Despite James' death the man would not let his grudge with Potters die, she believed he would be content to let Harry fail out of Hogwarts. So at the end of class she called him up.

"Potter, take a seat. I have noticed that your have yet to Transfigure anything in class. Do you know why that is?" She watched Harry grow still, not even raising his face to look at her. "It is imperative that you speak up. The other classes in this school have magic of a subtle kind, except for Charms. Professor Flitwick does not begin those practical lessons until Halloween, and I cannot allow for you to wait that long to see if you are better in that field. You are already behind in class as it is, so an explanation."

Harry was shifting in his seat now; Minerva kept her face impassive. Harry caught her eyes now, and her heart twisted with sadness. Minerva wondered how she had forgotten how brilliant Lily's eyes once were. The words came out in a rush, and her patience was rewarded.

"I've never done magic before. I mean, the first day, at the feast, Draco, Blaise, and everybody else, they told stories. How they did their first magic, floating things, changing colors, fixing things they broke that were really expensive. I never did any of that. When they asked me, I made something up, or maybe I didn't, and I just don't remember it, but I've never done this. And I can do magic, I know I can do magic, I know things sometimes, things that I shouldn't, so that's got to be magic. I think I'm not used to wands. But to Transfigure things you have to see it in your mind and you have to want it to change, and I can see many things in my mind and one of them is a needle. But I think that maybe I just don't want it to change, that maybe I just want a toothpick to be a toothpick and not be a needle."

It was an odd sort of explanation, making Minerva feel as if certain pieces were missing. She saw his eyes dart towards the door, and she knew she had to get him to calm down.

"Potter, I think I see what you mean. But part of magic is that the toothpick can turn into a needle and then it can turn back. I think we need to continue this discussion. Meet me after dinner." Minerva saw Harry shake his head.

"No, I can't." Seeing her raised eyebrow he explained. "I've got detention with Professor Snape yesterday, today and tomorrow. And I have Potions again the day after that, so probably not then either."

Minerva sat back in her chair, a suspicion arising. "And what did you do to Professor Snape, I haven't noticed a sharp decline in Slytherin point standing to warrant this." Harry quirk a strange sort of smile.

"Other than existing I don't know. And he doesn't take points away from me, just gives me detentions." If she hadn't been a teacher in so long, she probably would have missed the hesitance he had to confessing this.

"I will speak to Professor Snape, point deductions always precede detention, and it is entirely possible that his excitement of having someone clean the cauldrons every night is affecting your focus and directly affecting your performance in my class. Even your father never had so many detentions when he first arrived, though he more than made up for it by his third year." She saw the flicker of surprise on Harry's face, and a question in his eyes. It occurred to her that Petunia Dursley might have spoken of Lily, but kept quiet of James. It would be improper of her to show favoritism towards Harry, but Severus didn't seem to hold back, so perhaps just a bit wouldn't hurt.

"I was his, and your mother's, Head of House. I admit I was disappointed that you were not in Gryffindor, but I cannot change the Sorting Hat's decision, it is never wrong. But, I can be grateful that any mischief you get into will not be my problem. The paperwork your father and his friends gave me still haunts me at night. And I know you will, that much is in your blood, different house or not. Now to dinner Potter, I'm certain your friends are waiting for you."

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Ron was having a bad day; he had sat next to Granger during Defense, which led to him getting hit by her waving arm twenty times in class.

"I hate you." Ron looked up from the lawn; Harry was standing above him. He snickered, tossing some grass at Harry's face. Ron missed.

"Oh yeah? Why's that?"

"Because you're in Gryffindor and I'm in Sytherin. It's only natural. That, and you don't share a room with Draco Malfoy. He's always going through my things. It's as if he thinks he owns everything."

Ron grimaced. "His dad's rich enough. Maybe thinks he does."

"No. Not me." Ron looked at Harry, his eyes focused somewhere past the lake. Sometimes Ron got the feeling that Harry was far older than he was.

"If it makes you feel any better, Granger's annoying too. The know-it-all doesn't know when to let things be and I have… ugh!" Harry had tossed some grass back, and it ended up in Ron's mouth somehow. Ron spit it out, giving him a weak glare, before they both burst out in laughter.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Neville Longbottom was having a horrible day. First of all, the Remembrall his Gran sent him this morning promptly turned red, but he had no idea what he forgot. Then he had flying lessons with the Slytherins. Then he had broken his wrist, even before the actual flying was supposed to start. And when he got to dinner, Ron informed him that Malfoy had found his Remembrall and chucked it into the Forbidden Forest. He left the Great Hall last, his arm was still sore, and it took him longer to eat. He climbed the stairs, pausing at one trying to remember what step to skip. Black shoes entered his sight, then a green tie. Another confrontation with Slytherin, this is just what he needed to make his day worse.

A drawling voice spoke, "There you are. How much food are you eating, hmm? I've been waiting here a while, you'll never fly if you pack on that much weight."

Neville tried to stop the flush rising on his face, avoiding eye contact with Harry. Ron had gone about explaining that Harry was a natural on a broomstick, out flying him despite the fact it was his first time in the air. Ever since meeting Harry at the platform Neville had wanted a proper conversation with him. He had been kind enough to point out Trevor, and they were both having difficulty in class. But now all he wanted to do was remember which step to skip so he could go back up to the tower. He didn't understand why Ron preferred to be Harry's best friend even though they were in different houses; it wasn't fair.

"Your spectacular fall to the ground made you lose something. Do you know what it is?"

Neville stared at a spot just above the portrait behind Harry, before nodding. Harry started to descend down the stairs, a smirk on his face. Neville wished there was someone else around.

"The thing you need to know about Draco Malfoy is that he likes things. Things that are his, things that are not, things from people's pockets." Harry was close now, and all Neville could think of was that the Sorting Hat was wrong, he was definitely not a Gryffindor.

"Draco Malfoy keeps treating me like I should follow him around like a puppy. He borrows my books without asking, and has tried to go through my trunk. It's annoying. Pity for him that I'm far better at picking things out people's pockets." Harry moved to the side, going down the stairs now. Neville let out a breath when he passed by, robes brushing lightly against each other. Harry's back was facing him now, and he was about to round the corner.

"You're Welcome. Oh, and it's the seventh step that vanishes by the way." Neville tested this and found it to be true and raced up to the tower. He knew that he would never forget the trick step again; Harry was creepy enough that this memory wouldn't be forgotten soon. Plus, he wasn't certain what he should be thankful for anyway. It wasn't until he was changing into his pajamas that night that he realized that the Remembrall was in his right pocket and it was no longer red. Understanding dawned on Neville, Harry had not only returned it to him, but he told him what he had forgotten, the seventh step. He wondered how he managed to take it away from Malfoy.

Placing it on his nightstand next to Trevor, he began to think that maybe Harry wasn't just another Slytherin.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Severus Snape was having a bad year. Dumbledore had given him stern words about Potter's detentions, and it galled him to agree that he was being unjust. It was that Potter was a series of contradictions.

For one, he was in Slytherin, the very idea of the boy hero being cunning was laughable.

He always partnered with the Weasley boy in class, a Slytherin and Gryffindor. It was an echo of Lily that caused Severus to provoke the boy, to little reaction.

The detentions he gave produced no complaints, only a series of neatly preformed tasks.

Severus' insults only gave Weasley an injured foot when Potter stepped on it, and a raised eyebrow. As if to say, "That's the best you can think of?"

His essays were abysmal, his Potions work pathetic, and he heard from McGonagall that his wandwork was not a prize in that class either. And yet he was pulling in average grades.

When he heard Hooch rave about Potter's flying skills Severus called him into his office telling him that he would be allowed on the Quidditch team. Because his reluctance to giving Potter a favor, was outweighed with the irony of a Potter keeping the Cup at Slytherin for seven more years. The boy's response, was a curt, "No thank you, sir."

"And why not Potter? I know you want to be on the team."

"Yes, I do sir. But you want me on the team more." And for the first time Harry's eyes met with Severus' and he felt as if Lily was reflected right at him. Because even though they were firmly on the face of a Potter, they held the same stubborn defiance. Severus had never won an argument with Lily, the best he had done was a stalemate. It was only when Severus was alone that he realized that Potter did belong in Slytherin. He chose his battles with caution, something Lily never did.

It was a bitter enough thought that Severus ignored him for the remainder of the term.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Hermione was furious. Harry Potter was in her favorite seat in the library, and he wasn't studying. She read all about Harry in some of the books before she arrived at Hogwarts, but after meeting him, all she could think of was that he was overrated. He was always the last person to correctly cast the spell in Transfiguration, he caused trouble in Potions, and he slept in History of Magic. It was as if he didn't care about school at all. Some one like him should be trying to catch up on class work, instead of reading _Myths of the World._

"Don't you think that you should be studying?" Her foot tapped the floor in impatience.

"I am." She heard his voice behind the book. He didn't even look her.

"Maybe if you spent a little more time on your schoolwork you wouldn't have so much trouble in class."

"Maybe if you weren't so annoying you would have a friend" Harry shot back. Hermoine took a step back.

"I… I was only trying to help," and replied, and hating how shaky her voice sounded. She didn't want to give Harry the satisfaction of knowing how much that hurt. She left the library only to run into Harry again, tumbling to the floor. She gaped up at him, wondering how he beat her out of the library. She brushed the tears that had formed and stood to her feet.

"I'm sorry, that was mean. But you have to understand something Granger. You… irritate me, ever since I met you on the train. One of the first things you did was point out how you read about me in a book. That doesn't make you an expert in Me. Real life is more than cleverness; you have to know people. And people don't like being told they are stupid, even if you are 'just trying to help." His pause made Hermione feel small, and she rushed to let out some sort of explanation.

"I was very excited when I found out I was a witch, and I want to prove that I could be as good as the ones who had grown up with magic." She stopped when she heard Harry's chuckle.

"I know what you mean, I did grow up in the Muggle world too, which is why I was reading this book. I was wondering how many Muggle myths are based in Magical fact. I think only then that I will be any good at magic, something you wouldn't understand. You are so much smarter than everyone else, but it makes you seem arrogant. So stop being so annoying." And with that he left.

Hermoine was confused; he had given her a blunt insult, and a high compliment in the same sentence. She bit her lip, wondering why Harry was such a contradiction.

The next day he partnered up with her in Charms class, and they didn't argue. And when Ron made fun of her he came to her defense. It was a warm sort of feeling, and because of that she took Harry's words to heart.

And when Christmas time approached she sent him a gift, hoping that he was her friend.


	7. Ch 6 Three Nights of Desire

**Chapter Six**

**Three Nights of Desire**

_The first person Harry killed was a grown man. He was tall, and muscular, and exactly the type of person Harry was taught to avoid in primary school. The man was bound to a chair and laughed when he saw Harry. When he spoke swear words bloomed like flowers in a field, and Harry could almost see the field in the corner of his eye. There was a young woman doing cartwheels, and the crown made of mud and sunshine did not fall off her head as she spun._

_But then the field was fading away as the world exploded in to green light and the man broke through the bonds. A flick of Harry's wrist and the room came back into focus, the colors fading away, except for the vibrant red blood pouring out of the fallen man. Visions of green warned Harry of oncoming death, and he could protect himself because of it. Harry could remember there was a point in time when he didn't see these images. When he was _normal_._

_Harry missed normal, but he knew he would never be that again._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The time at Howarts was flying quickly, and before Harry knew it, Christmas had arrived. He promptly signed the list of students who would be staying for the holidays, but not before having a laugh at what the Dursley's would say if he showed up on their doorstep. He had been surprised to receive a letter from them the other day demanding that he stay over there during the Easter holidays as well. It never occurred to him that they knew he was attending Hogwarts, it was weird to think of them and magic in the same thought. He was rather delighted to find out that Ron's parents were going on holiday and he and his three brothers would be staying as well. He was not aware of anyone else, it seemed as if most of the school had someplace to go.

Harry met up with Ron in the Great Hall for lunch when the students left. It turned out that the Weasley's were the only people in Gryffindor, and Ron dragged him up to the common room after eating. Harry had explored the castle plenty of times, but he never had occasion to go so far up. Finally they stopped in front of a woman wearing a magnificent pink dress. Ron turned to him.

"This is the entrance to the Gryffindor dormitory. I asked my brothers if they would mind if you could come when most of the school is gone. Percy's a prefect, so he'll get the password changed later, but for now it's 'pig snout'." And with that, the portrait swung forward and Harry got his first glimpse of the Gryffindor common room. It was cozy, plush and there was a large fireplace where two boys sat. They were roasting marshmallows on the fire, gesturing to each other with exuberant motion. Harry recognized them as Fred and George, they were rather well known in the school, their antics had caused them to receive quite a few detentions. Between the three of them, it was likely Snape never had to do extra clean-up in his classroom. He gave them a brief wave before following Ron, he was rather looking forward to learning wizard's chess.

Christmas morning dawned bright and chill; part of Harry rebelled at the thought of crawling out from his blanket. But then his foot connected with something unexpected, and he raised his head. There were four lovely wrapped presents, and Harry felt his breath get caught halfway down his throat. The only true present he had ever remember was the knife he carried everyday in his pocket, but that was born out of practicality as much as it was kindness.

He stared at them, noting the way the sun glinted off their wrapping, noting their size and wondering what they might contain inside. It took some time for him to open them, almost afraid that they would disappear. He picked up a present with Japanese Flora on the wrapper, it was a gift was from his former guardian, it was a small tablet etched with Japanese sayings. It contained four statements, one of the few lessons Harry had been given. The man preferred giving practical experience, and laughing with Harry failed miserably. The lessons had almost become a mantra to Harry, guiding him on his more difficult days of adjustment.

Enclose was a note:

_Freedom is the greatest gift in the world_

Recalling his miserable childhood, Harry couldn't help but agree, knowing the tablet was a reminder to make respect other peoples freedom along with his responsibilities. Placing the tablet on a table, he moved to the next. It was from Ron, containing some homemade fudge. Harry swore, it never occurred to him that he was going to get a gift, much less what he should give.

The next gift was a large supply of Chocolate Frogs from Hermoine. Their confrontation in the library had led to a mutual understanding and they got along well now. Ron had thanked him, saying the she was helpful now, and laughed at Harry that Malfoy was still an irritation.

The last present was a cool shimmering cloth. This too had a note:

Y_our father left this in my possession before he died. It was time it was returned to you. Use it well._

Harry felt the cloak under his fingertips, gliding easily onto his lap, causing it to vanish from sight. A thrill went down his spine, and he swung over his shoulders before stopping in front of the mirror and noticing how very not present he was in its reflection. It was an invisibility cloak, and this small hint of James Potter was enough to make Harry's heart skyrocket. He whipped off the cloak hurriedly; he knew that he could spend hours under that cloak, thinking up of ways that his father had used it, what he could do. But it was almost time to eat, and Harry knew he had to solve the dilemma of what to give Ron.

Going through his trunk he saw only one thing that would make a suitable gift, the knife he had been given in July. He felt a bit bad giving Ron another thing that had been pre-owned, but it was a small consolation that Ron would never know that. He had only used the knife once, and he had a feeling that it might even make the twins jealous if they caught sight of it.

Harry groaned as he wrapped the gift using the paper with Japanese flora, sometimes he felt like the worst friend ever, and he was grateful that Ron never picked up on it. Harry also resolved to send Hermione his copy of _The Tales of Beetle the Bard_, writing notes in the margin to make it more personal. That would be an easy excuse to explain why it had not arrived with her other gifts, and Harry was doubtful that she had read wizard fairy tales.

Despite the lack of signature, Harry suspected that the cloak was a gift from a staff member, why else would they wait this long to give it to him? On the other hand, being invisible only works well if people are not on the lookout for an invisible person, and the teacher would already know about it.

'_But,_' Harry thought, '_they would not expect me to be invisible at any time would they?_' And with that Harry stuffed the Cloak into his pocket, resolving to carry it with him at all times. It was best if he get into the habit now, the very idea of Draco finding it in the room when he returned made Harry ill.

It was passed lunchtime by now, so Harry went up to the tower. When he entered he saw all four Weasleys sitting on the carpet eating. He noticed all of them wearing the same type of sweaters; they looked handmade. Catching sight of the giant initials that graced the twins, Harry grinned.

"Merry Christmas. Did you start confusing each other so much that you had to label each other?"

"Apparently, dear Harry, it is our mother than can't remember Fred from George."

"Or Gred from Forge."

Harry plopped onto the chair, ignoring Ron's questioning face. It wasn't until Percy went to take a shower that Harry turned to Ron.

"Sorry about that. I just had to make certain that Percy didn't see you open this. I may not know him very well, but you would probably get this confiscated," he said as he pulled the present from his pocket. Ron's face broke out in a smile and glanced up the stairs to make certain that Percy was gone, and unwrapped it.

"A pocketknife? Percy probably would have let me keep this, although he probably would have given me a long lecture about responsibility first."

"Not just any knife Ron. This thing is enchanted to open any lock. The world is yours to break into." He gave Ron a wink when he saw the twin's jaws drop open.

Harry traveled through the hallways under the Invisibility Cloak that night, easily avoiding the traps that get students caught. Entering a room to avoid an oncoming Filch, he pressed against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye he managed to catch sight of a tall mirror. He was not a fan of mirrors, he knew there was nothing to be scared of, but part of him half expected to see something else appear. There was something odd about this mirror, it was not reflecting the window, and all he could see was hazy, grey mist. It called out to him, and Harry ignored his instincts and gazed into it. There he caught sight of a woman with red hair, green eyes exactly like his own glimmering back. And then a man with untidy hair and glasses, a man with knobby knees exactly like Harry, and Harry knew that this, _this_ was far better than Chocolate Frogs.

He returned the next night, sitting in front of the mirror for hours. Harry had never heard anything about his parents other than the vague explanation that they were war heroes who could do magic and the complete lie that his Aunt Petunia had given him. Seeing their faces made them real, and for the first time Harry missed them as people, rather than ideas. Harry did not even notice that Dumbledore was already in the room on the third night.

"Back again Harry?"

He flipped around. The presence of someone real brought Harry back to Hogwarts sharply, and his mind starting the process what was going on once more. This mirror had to have something powerful behind it if it dulled his senses so much that he ignored another person, it was the sort of thing he was trained in. Plus, the Invisibility Cloak did not surprise Dumbledore, he must have been the gift giver. Encouraging future rule breaking wasn't something most people would do, so he figured it wouldn't hurt to get an explanation about the mirror.

"I just… the mirror…. It shows me my parents and they are alive and waving and _laughing_. But it's dangerous isn't it? Why?" Harry tried to not make it sound like a command, but now that he could think clearer he was a bit wary. (The mirror was grey! How could he have missed that warning?) Dumbledore's eyebrow raised, his eyes looking at him with intent before speaking.

"The Mirror of Erised shows us the nothing more than the deepest desires of our hearts. Men have lost their lives because they become enchanted by the image, not caring if it is even a possibility, or the blessings they have in reality." Harry felt a small guilt, he still had not worked on Hermione's present.

"I understand sir." He gave a half glance at the mirror; his mum just blew him a kiss. "I never really saw a picture of them before, and Aunt Petunia never talked about them. We just try to stay out of each others way. It's weird to see them as people and not a just as names who helped destroy You-Know-Who."

Harry was looking out the window when he admitted this; confessions were not his strong point. However, he did not miss the small start that Dumbledore gave.

"Harry, I would like to point out a miscommunication to you. Voldemort is not dead, just grievously injured and in hiding."

"Voldemort? I don't… oh. You-Know-Who. I never actually find out his name, nobody said it out loud or printed it. But the books all said he was gone." His eyebrows scrunched together and he could not help the frustration that seeped into his voice.

"You mean to tell me that monster is still alive and everybody's pretending it's okay? People should be out there trying to squash him like a bug! If I had known… nothing would have stopped me, especially if I was old enough." He turned to the mirror once more, his body shaking in disappointment and anger. His father was twirling around with his mother to music he could not hear. The image had turned bittersweet. If it were a normal mirror he would have seen the concern that graced Dumbledore's face at Harry's anger.

"Voldemort commanded great power and fear. People were relieved that he had gone, and were busy establishing order out of the darkness they he left to question what had become of him. After all, the only proof was that his body had disintegrated, a very small clue. The best information I managed to gather was that he fled to Albania." Noticing Harry's clenched fists, Dumbledore thought it was time to move him far away from the mirror.

"Harry, it does not do well to live in dreams and forget to live. The best thing you can do is to honor the sacrifice your parents made by living with joy, but be prepared for the possibility that Voldemort might return." He saw Harry's shoulders relax and saw him take a deep breath. He turned slowly and for a moment Dumbledore thought that Harry's eyes were golden. But as they focused on his face, the serious gaze reflected in those green eyes unnerved him.

"Be prepared? Oh, I can promise that easily." Harry didn't give the mirror another glance as walked out the room, it was a lie, and had nothing to offer. As he walked back to his bed, he thought of what he just learned, and made a solemn vow. He would be ready when Voldemort came back, and rise to the challenge given ten years ago.

In fact, he would make Voldemort cry in fear.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

There was something in Harry's tone of voice that made Dumbledore nervous. By all of the teacher's accounts, he seemed to be an intelligent, polite, and quiet student. He also was pleased to hear that Harry had taken to socializing with classmates in different houses. Dumbledore had hoped that Harry would be able to change the reputation of Slytherin that settled over it every time a dark wizard came from that house.

Voldemort, in particular, had caused a rift so large that Slytherin had become isolated from the rest of the school. However, his reaction to the Mirror of Erised was not the wonder that many students his age would have, but that of someone experienced in cursed objects. Believing it best that the mirror be moved immediately to remove temptation, Dumbledore raised his wand, and steeled himself for the image to come. But he was expecting was his family, whole and forgiving, and this was not the case at all.

It took him several attempts before he was able to ignore this new image the Mirror of Erised had given him. It was a perfect picture of innocence.

Dumbledore wondered what had gone horribly wrong.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Desire wanted to keep Harry. True, Desire wanted everything, but this boy had managed to capture her/his attention. At first, he was just a normal human, and Desire was disappointed that he did not display the capacity his mother did. But one day, something changed. Desire was in realm of want observing one of her frequent visitors, when all of her attention was diverted to the boy.

Harry was in every crevice of her realm,the Threshold, he wanted his mother, his father, a warm blanket, a cold blanket, food, a hug, noise, silence, and an end.

Desire had no choice but to hold his pulsating heart beating in his delicate hands. Then he disappear once again, Despair had got her hook into Harry's heart dragging him back to the her realm of mirrors. After that the boy was a frequent visitor, bright, sudden, and never disappointing. Desire knew that she would never tire of it, so a trap was made.

Because he was Desire, if he stopped wanting, he was nothing.

Harry had arrived at her mirror, gazing into its depths. The silly boy didn't even like mirrors, not ever since he had gotten free of Despair, he should have realized that something was wrong that it captured his attention. There were so many possibilities to show him, but in the end Desire chose to show his family as a nod of respect to Lily. It was a wise choice, Harry spent many hours gazing into its depths. And he returned the next night, and the next. Desire did not think it was possible, but somehow her realm began to change into even more glorious. Harry was slipping away into her realm, and soon he would be nothing more than Desire, and she would have him. And then that man came and ruined it all.

"_It does not do well to dwell in dreams and forget to live." _

Desire seethed at that. Dream had nothing to do with this, how dare he attribute this mirror to him! And she could feel Harry shrink, and The Threshold shift to its former state. He was still there, but now a small wall guarded his heart, and Desire could no longer hold it. Harry Potter had conquered Desire.

Plans ruined, Desire made certain to send a particularly vicious image to Dumbledore.

In the mirror, Ariana Dumbledore and Harry Potter shared a chocolate frog.


	8. Ch 7 Murder in Five Steps

**Chapter Seven **

**Murder in Five Steps**

_The first person Harry did **not** kill was a grown man. He was tall, thin, and had eyes like a hawk. He could not tell what it was, but every inch of Harry's body wanted to flee, but a firm hand kept him in place. Harry was still seven and while he understood what they were trying to do, (turn him into a killer) a small part of him hoped that it was a large joke. Maybe a plot to get him to appreciate the Dursley's more. _**They**_ handed him the blade, but Harry refused._

_So he was tied to a chair. The world exploded into green, red and grey, and the colors made Harry's head hurt, so he shut his eyes. It worked, but that did not get rid of the man's screaming, he was shaking, and it would be years before Harry could go a day without hearing the man's cries._

_The next time _**They**_ handed him the blade he took it._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

After meeting Dumbledore Harry began to take his studies to another level. Before he was content with his role as an sub-average student, but now he knew it was not enough. Voldemort had years of knowledge ahead of him, and whatever had happened that made Harry survive the first time around could not be counted on again. Then again, Harry knew that he would not catch up by grabbing advanced textbooks and practicing spells. That would only get him so far before he was stopped by his own limits, and the frustration would do him more harm than good.

So instead he created a two-fold plan, clever and cunning. The first thing was to consult Hermione on what select books he should read in order to make magic easier. It was ridiculous that he was months into school yet it took him so long in order to do a spell properly. He needed to know how to grasp new spells quickly. A little extra knowledge, or at least knowing where to find it would be useful.

Part two was a little bit trickier, it involved the arcane and weird. Receiving the Invisibility Cloak and the knife reminded Harry that there were all sorts of things that could be useful to him. Not to mention the Mirror, that sort of thing was dangerous, and he would never have known that such a thing could exist. Most people would expect him to have the basics down, but there were other hidden branches of magic. Knowing some of this would give him an advantage.

To that effect, Harry was going to have to submerse himself in myth. They would be an excellent source of magical knowledge Harry would never have considered, and they would provide inspiration in difficult situations. Part of him was thrilled to have a legitimate excuse to be reading these stories now; the other half shuddered of the amount of reading. It was action far more stationary than he preferred.

With this in mind, he talked to Hermione, who gave him excellent suggestions, not to mention a reading list the length of his arm. He also talked to Terry Boot, a fellow who happened to sit near him during Herbology. This turned out to be a brilliant move, Terry was better at explaining things than Hermione, stating that teaching was the best sign of comprehension. And so Harry spent some time with the Ravenclaws, reviewing the material with them helped him. In turn he explained Defense Against the Dark Arts, Quirrell's stutter was so bad that Harry was one of the few people to pick up the message he was trying to send, mostly because Harry was always paying attention in that class.

Harry knew there was something strange about Quirrell, every time he entered the classroom the room was lit green, grey, and blue. His instincts had gotten stronger as time went on; at first Harry thought that Quirrell was getting this reaction from him because he was dangerous. And he wasn't certain what blue meant. But Dumbledore had not set off his nerves at all, even after he lost interest in the Mirror. And finding out that Voldemort was alive only made him more wary.

One day Ron approached him when he was leaving the Great Hall.

"You wouldn't believe what Neville and I ran into last night! It was almost time for curfew and we ran into Peeves knocking down some suits of armor. We were worried about Filch blaming us, so we ran for it, but he knows all of the secret passages. We reached the third floor, but the door was locked, so I used the knife gave me to open it. We heard Filch shuffle away, Neville and I are congratulating each other and we hear this noise. And there, right behind us, is a massive three-headed dog. Who keeps a three-headed dog in the school?"

"The only reason someone would do that was to guard something, which means its probably means it is valuable and dangerous, there's no reason it should be here, the bank would be better."

"Harry! Do you think it's the same thing that the thieves were after when they broke into Gringotts?"

Harry frowned, "Someone broke into Gringotts? That's mad. I've been in there, the magic protecting everything is pretty much impenetrable. When did this happen?"

Ron shrugged, "A few months ago. They didn't succeed though, the vault had been emptied earlier. I wonder what it is." Harry could see Ron's eyes sparking with interest, and he knew that encouraging his friend might get him a lot of trouble. So he didn't.

"I don't know Ron. But whatever it is must have loads of defenses, maybe the teachers helped. Either way, knowing just about the dog is enough." Harry had his suspicions that Quirrel had something to do with it, but acting on doubt was stupid.

He had a stroke of luck after a Quidditch match; Harry was actually hoping to sneak a broom ride, when he saw Quirrell and Snape talking. He blended into the shadows easily, pressed against an old gnarled tree. The tense conversation made little sense until Harry heard the words "Philosopher's Stone." Harry knew about Nicolas Flamel, he had visited the supposed tombstone in a Paris Museum last year in school.

He knew that the Stone was supposed to give immortality and gold, and as much as he hated Snape, the worst he had done was make Harry live in detention. Quirrell, on the other hand gave the appearance of weakness, a skill that Harry had employed many times. It made sense that this was the item from Gringotts, and Harry believed that Voldemort would be the only one to attempt it, He didn't have much to lose attacking the bank, and Quirrell was probably being used to help him out. Voldemort at full strength was a nightmare Harry didn't want to thing about, at eleven, there was not much he could do. Stopping him now would buy him time.

By midnight, Harry had a plan.

He traveled to the third floor under his cloak and opened the door. There was a Greek myth about a three-headed dog that was lulled to sleep by Orpheus. If Nicolas Flamel was a real wizard, then perhaps Harry was better prepared than he thought. The dog was growling, drool coming from all three of its heads. Harry knew that the dog could smell him, if not see him. Opening his mouth, he attempted the only song he knew.

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts…"

To his amazement, the dog's eyes began to droop.

"Teach us something please…"

Three heads began to nod.

"Whether we be old and bald…"

Two heads were on paws, the other yawning, revealing sharp teeth.

"Or young with scabby knees."

The dog was asleep now, snores coming so deep they made Harry chest rumble. But as soon as he stopped singing the dog began to awaken. Knowing he had little time, Harry left the room, heading for a good night's rest.

The next day dragged slowly for Harry. Step one involved eating a big lunch, grabbing an extra banana. He knew he wouldn't get caught; he was too well trained for that. But the other steps involved manipulating people, and people can act in unexpected ways. Defense was the last class of the day, and Harry made certain he was late. The only seat left was directly in front of Quirrell, step two complete.

He threw a hasty apology to the Professor while sliding into his seat, ignoring the color in his eyes and the pain that pierced his forehead as he approached. Then he realized something; perhaps these headaches had something to do with Voldemort. He had only had them a couple of times, but for the most part he avoided the teacher, never giving eye contact and sitting in the back of the class.

The revelation of this caught him so by surprise he almost forgot step two. But Draco Malfoy was a part of step three, and he rose to his role magnificently.

"What's the matter Harry? Forget your defense text?"

"Erm, yeah. I brought my myth book instead. Mind if I share yours?"

Draco threw Harry a questioning glance, but he couldn't say no. Quirrell. had his back turned, and he was writing something on the board.

"I don't know why you read that rubbish, its not useful." Draco grabbed _Myths of the World_, opening to the index. "There aren't any golden apples, and who ever heard of three-headed dogs? No wonder you're doing so poorly in class, your Muggle upbringing is setting you behind." A couple of students behind them snickered. Harry had used a book-marking spell Hermione taught him to highlight the chapter with the dog. It stuck the extra pages together so specific parts were easy to find. Draco was the kind of person that liked touching other people's things, and he had a big mouth. **Step three complete.**

Feigning embarrassment, Harry mumbled a few words and set the book on the ground. He saw that Quirrell had gone quite still, before snapping out of it and starting class. He took notes for about ten minutes, before deliberately kicking the book on the floor. It opened the book to a lovely illustration of a fearsome Cerberus, and while he was not looking at the professor, he noticed that Quirrell's sentences were becoming even less coherent. Not five minutes later class was canceled early for the day.

"Potter, a word." A thrill of adrenalin shot through Harry, making him focused and his mind clear. He approached the desk.

"I –I – I noticed that you did not bring your d-d-defense text to class today, instead bringing this other b-book." He summoned the book from Harry's arms. "I'll be keeping this b-book from you until n-n-next class. Ssso you will r-r-remember." He gave Harry a sickly smile. Ducking his head to the ground, Harry restrained his smile, muttering a solemn, "I understand, sir."

**Step four complete.**

He headed up to the third-floor corridor, slipping under the Cloak, entering the room, and waited. The dog was there, heads twisting about when it saw the door open, but making no sudden movements. He wasn't certain how long it would take Quirrell to try and get the Stone but he knew it would be tonight. The temptation to try it out would be too much, so Harry munched on the banana. It wouldn't do to get caught because of a stomach rumble.

Dinner time arrived and Quirrell entered with a magnificent harp floating in front of him. Harry pressed himself against the wall, the harp landing where he once stood. A flick of Quirrell's wand, and it began to play a calm melody. The three-headed dog began to grow drowsy once again.

"Master, it's working!"

"I cannot wait to see the look on Dumbledore's face when I tell him that Potter is the one that gave me the knowledge on how to evade this beast and gain the Stone. It will an image to relish."

Harry stiffened when he heard the second voice. If there was another invisible person in here, he was in trouble. He didn't think of that. But then again, the voice seemed to be coming from Quirrell, and there had not been enough time for the teacher to let someone invisible in when he opened the door.

"Quirrell, I will be reward you beyond anything you can imagine. Lord Voldemort is generous to those who are loyal. There are two hours until the staff meeting and the beast has finally fallen asleep, continue."

So it was _him_. And he must be communicating with Quirrell somehow; Dumbledore did say he was weak, perhaps with some sort of magical telephone. It was enough for Harry to continue with his plan, not that revealing the information how to get past the dog left Harry with a choice. He reached into the enchanted jar he brought with him. Hermione might have been an expert at creating fire, but one of the first things Harry had searched for was an ice spell. It took him ages to learn, but he had managed it. With careful aim and enough force, ice was an excellent weapon, leaving little trace after melting. Quirrell bent down between the dogs paws, reaching for a trap door, and Harry flicked his wrist towards the harp, cutting the strings.

**Step five complete.**

Immediately, Quirrel was facing the harp, arm coming up to mend the strings. And while it only took two seconds for him to react and mend the harp, it only took the dog one second to notice a trespasser and half a second to bite.

Harry could see the blood coming out of his former teacher, his body glowing green, pouring out red and grey. Quirrell was already dead, with his arm was still pointing towards the harp, the wand fallen to the floor. The grey color formed into a shape, and Harry saw a face, angular with red eyes. (_Red is life_.) It let out a shriek, but seemed unable to form words.

Harry was horrified to realize that Voldemort had been in the room, inside Quirrell. If he didn't have a body how could Harry win? The room turned blue, and the clouds cleared in his mind to what it meant. (_Blue is illusion, not everything is what it seems_.) He made no noise and little movement; Voldemort was waiting for the sign of life that cut the harp strings. He floated around the room, swooping in corners, but Harry evaded him with ease. Not sensing him, the spirit floated away, shrieking in anger. Waiting ten more minutes just in case, Harry finally left the room.

He was astonished to see students walking up the staircases with pastries in their hands. Dinner was wrapping up. Hoping to get a bit of leftover pudding he rushed to the Great Hall. And as Harry ate it on his way to the Slytherin dungeons, he wondered why his dreadful version of the school song put the dog to sleep quicker than the superb harp song and what it meant.


	9. Ch 8 The Four Lessons

**Chapter Eight**

**The Four Lessons**

_Harry arrived at the house with two men he did not know, in a town uncertain. They taught him many things, and Harry quickly learned that it was best to pay attention and keep his mouth shut. They never hurt him, but it was their presence that had power. Harry kept up with part of his schoolwork, but most of it was new and terrifying. They also showed him how to focus his mind, to make himself stronger, his senses sharper, and how blend in._

_Knives, blood, shadows, and death were not subjects in primary school. It was dangerous, it was illegal, it was weird. He tried to run away one day so he could find someone, anyone to help him. That was when he discovered the ward the surrounded the house. Harry was trapped in an invisible box, and for the first time, Despair tugged at his heart._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

He had trouble sleeping that night; his dreams fill with visions of green light and strange people who were so much more than people. So when Harry got up in the morning, he was greeting with a drawling comment by Blaise.

"Harry, you didn't tell me that your parents were a panda and raccoon."

When Dumbledore got up and explained of Quirrell's death, he looked at his distorted reflection from his cup of pumpkin juice. LHe went to the hospital wing, perhaps he could feign sickness, to get some proper rest.

The rest of the year continued with a new Defense teacher. He was appointed by the Ministry of Magic; a young Auror named Fawcette who was recovering from a curse. He was competent and friendly, and Harry was glad that _Myths of the World_ returned to his hand without a comment of three-headed dogs. There was a two-hour gap between the last class of Friday and dinnertime, and Harry and Ron agreed this was a good time to meet because it was after Potions. McGonagall had given them approval to use an empty classroom near Transfiguration after finding them in different room every week. She was as strict and fair as she had ever been, but Harry knew he could turn to her if needed.

This sort of secret support made up for Snape, who continued to give Harry detentions once a week. After a while, Hermione began to meet with him on Fridays as well. Harry was surprised to see that Ron did not protest her presence; she must have mellowed out a lot. Neville sometimes followed them, and sometime he didn't. Ron believed that Neville was scared of Harry.

"But that's absolutely ridiculous, it's not as if Harry is hexing people like Malfoy," Hermione protested, cutting out some poor sentences in Ron's essay. Harry snorted.

Draco hadn't pushed Harry too far ever since he was caught trying to go through Harry's trunk in September. The trunk was anti-theft so it would be years before Draco could be talented enough to get into it, but it made Harry mad. The suggestion that Draco could find all of his things at the bottom of Black Lake was enough for him to avoid Harry. They treated each other civilly, but stayed away from each other. Hermione handed back the essay and Ron moaned, more than half of it had been sacrificed to Hermione's pen.

Ernie Macmillan's question the next day of when he was going to be invited caught Harry by surprise. He wasn't aware that his classmates thought of it as invitation only group, it was just because there wasn't much other time for him and Ron to hang around. He told him as such and the next week, Ernie showed up. Harry was a bit worried Ron would be jealous; originally it was just supposed to be the two of them.

But it turned out that Ron and Ernie were both Chudley Cannon fans, leaving Hermione and Harry to talk about _The Tales of Beetle the Bard_. Harry hadn't given it to her until February, something she had forgiven Harry for when she found out that he was trying to make the gift personal. By the time he had finished the book was littered with hundreds of references of morality, history, magical artifacts, and so forth. He only got one chapter in it when he realized that he really was her friend if he was putting that much effort into it. Hermione had finally finished reading it, and was amazed. Harry _had _been studying that time he met her in the library, he knew all sorts of random facts and the information was about subjects she doubt she would have researched herself. Hermione felt a bit embarrassed, she had always thought of Harry as rather dim.

Terry Boot and Su Li stopped by the next week. Harry didn't know them too well; for the most part it was Harry trying to learn from them. But it turns out that they were less dull when not talking about basic magic. Terry had the second highest scores in the class, usually behind Hermione by a few of points. He might have been able to match her if he wasn't such a fan of Gobstones. And it turned out that Su and Blaise were almost cousins, one of his stepfathers had been Su's uncle. Because of this they had played Exploding Snap frequently as children, and spent most of the time trying to build a replica of Hogwarts with their cards.

The Weasley twins the week after, cheerly arguing with Blaise about the merits of Potions. The other Gryffidor boys stopped by, and Harry had to hide his snickers when he caught the expression on Ernie and Ron's face. Dean Thomas was explaining Muggle sports, while Seamus tried to reenact the rules behind his back. Harry started to notice that these people stopped being labeled by their houses on Friday afternoons, they were just first-year students. It was hard for him to see why the older years were so set by their sorting for when they were first years.

Of course he didn't realized that the other years did not have someone as unique as himself.

Then exams time arrived and half of the first year was there, trying to cobble together dirt-smudged Herbolgy text into something useful. They were too busy laughing at Ron's History notes (Goblin wars are bad) to notice Dumbledore stop at the doorway.

There was another man with him, looking just as old, although faded compared to Dumbledore's bright robes. Harry felt them stop, but didn't turn around. He had not been caught as the cause for Quirrell's death, and he hoped that Dumbledore would stay away. But there were also questions he had too.

How was Voldemort still alive?

Why did he try to kill Harry when he was only a year old?

For now he would wait, but one day Harry knew that he would have to confront him. Dumbledore went away, glad that Harry had managed to find friendship in every house, and believing that the fear he felt in Christmas was imagined. Harry was glad that Dumbledore was keeping his nose to himself; the last thing he wanted was another adult trying to control him.

Exams passed by and Harry got his scores back. Much to every teacher's surprise, it was as if a different student was taking the test. Although his essays were not perfect, they were still written in his messy scrawl. But his practical work was flawless; Harry had preformed everything with ease. It was something they all remarked on, many were worried that he would have to retake the year. Snape did not say much, but grudgingly gave Harry a high score.

They did not know that Harry had been failing with purpose.

He did have difficulty performing the magic at first; he had a feeling that this was due his unfamiliarity with focusing through a wand. But he was taught early that failure was a key to success. And by trying to fail in every way that he could think of possible, he learned the best way to succeed.

So Harry packed his trunk, placing the tablet of his former guardian at the top, the lessons shining in language that only he and Dumbledore could read. Harry felt as if he had lived those lessons well this year.

**The Four Lessons**

_There are ways around everything, but perhaps not in the way you desire._

_Death is the force of equality, look into its eyes and stand proud._

_There is no right and wrong. There is only power and those too weak to see it._

_To know yourself, is to be powerful. To know others, is to be wise. To know both is to be a gift._

He had made friends. Actual people had come to him for advice and support and they trusted him. It was weird and surreal, in a way that Harry could have never believed last year.

And magic had absolutely nothing to do with that.

He said goodbye to everyone on the train, asking them not to owl him over the summer. He knew that his Uncle Vernon would not be pleased about owl mail, and now that he was going to have to stay there more than a month, he didn't want to press his luck. Ron mentioned something about inviting him to his house over the summer. Much to his dismay, he was handed a small sheet that told him not to perform magic over the summer. Harry knew that he would have to find a way around that next year.

He saw a young girl with multi-colored hair sitting on a bench when he left the platform. Harry thought she looked familiar and went to approach her. But then her heard his Uncle Vernon's cough and changed his mind. Best to start out the summer when a positive start, Vernon hated abnormal things. And the girl looked anything but normal.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Delirium missed Harry. She used to see him all the time, she could see that he was a nice person, and she really really liked that, there weren't that many people like him.

Plus his eyes were _green_, and

one of her eyes was _green_,

even though they used to be both _blue_,

and it made her wonder if one day,

both of her eyes would be _green_.

But when he went to the school, things changed.

It wasn't as if she was upset, but he was order now, he had order, and she was on good days happy, and on bad days chaos. And it seemed like all she had nowadays were bad days.

So she waited for him at the train station, maybe would say _hello_? And he almost did, and she waited,

but then his Uncle coughed and she was unhappy.

She almost did something to the uncle because of that, but then she saw Harry's face. He didn't look happy either. But Harry was nice and he wouldn't be happy if something like that happened so she didn't make anything happen.

Instead, she was just glad that it looked like Harry almost said _hello_.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Nicolas Flamel could not sleep. He had lived long enough to know when massive change was coming, and he could see the lines drawn quite clearly.

Nicolas Flamel had met Dream of the Endless in a quest for immortality. It was six hundred years ago and great things were happening in magic. Perenelle and Nicolas were both deeply involved in their own projects, and wanted to see how the world would change. But as time passed they feared they would run out of time. _The Power of Dreams_ was a popular book at the time, written by a witch who had lived with Muggles for two years. The writer claimed that Muggles had their own powers, the kind that could change the world more than any spell could.

The Flamels had read the book, and having nothing to lose, they prepared an argument. One night, they both said a small prayer before going to bed, and the words echoed in their minds as they fell asleep.

They were standing on a lonely beach, the full moon bright against a dark ocean.

"Why have you called for me?" Dream of the Endless stood tall and imposing, wild, black hair floating in a nonexistent breeze. Nicolas wet his lips and spoke.

"I grow old and my body aches. The world is changing and we wish to learn more of it. The possibilities, the way the world will come to be are something that intrigues Perenelle and I. We seek the way to avoid your sister, Death. I read that you can tell me how."

"Perhaps. But what do you have to offer me Nicolas? I have nothing to gain by helping you." Nicolas smiled.

"We will give you the story of our lives."

Dream mused on this, and then accepted his deal. All stories come to an end, and Dream was the Lord of them all. It was not immortality, it was an extension of life, in which Dream could create the ending. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a stone.

"This is a stone of my own power, created here in The Dreaming. The time that you would spend asleep belongs to me. It will be channeled into the stone instead, and keep you alive. So long as you stay awake, you will live. You wished to observe and you shall."

They woke up that morning, and found a ruby on the nearby table. From then on, stories arose about the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, Nicolas Flamel and his wife Perenelle, two people who would not die. It was rumored to create gold, and countless people spent time attempting to create an identical stone. It spanned the globe, and many wondered how the Elixir of Life could be extruded from a rock.

Many a dark wizard had attempted to steal the Stone, only to have it turn into sand when they attempted to use it. Eventually, it would return to the Flamels once more,where it belonged.

But Voldemort was different. Nicolas and Perenelle had seen the signs; living so long makes one very wise. They knew that he had sought immortality, immersing himself into the depths of dark magic. Then his power broke, and Perenelle and Nicolas rejoiced. It took only ten years for rumors of Voldemort to arise once more, and they humored Albus when he said he would protect the Stone at Hogwarts.

He was a good friend; together they had discovered the twelve uses for dragon's blood, research that Nicolas had started before he had the Stone. He was unable to finish it for years because the agreement with Dream allowed him only to observe, any direct action caused Pernelle and Nicolas to grow lethargic, the years weighing heavy on their bones. The first part of the research belonged to Flamel, and Albus had the intelligence to complete it.

They heard of the attempt by the Defense teacher, and Albus explained how a large guard dog had devoured him, despite the knowledge of how to get past it. Albus and Nicolas both believed that greed had caused the teacher to act prematurely. There were no other attempts, and Nicolas visited Hogwarts at the end of the year.

On their way to the third corridor, Nicolas and Albus passed a room full of children. He spared a glance into the room and froze. He turned to Albus, who saw the unspoken question on his face.

"That would be the first years. It appears that Harry Potter has a large gathering of friends, and they meet here every week, eliminating the walls that have risen between houses." Albus had a smile on his face, unconcerned and almost proud of the person that Harry had grown into.

But that was not what Nicolas saw. After viewing the protections, Nicolas decided to take the Stone with him, there were things he needed to discuss with Perenelle. Because Nicolas had only seen a glimpse of Harry and he knew that there was very little to stop the boy from claiming the Stone himself.

He had the same wild black hair, and his cloak was clasped with a stone in the same fashion.

Despite Harry's short stature, and green eyes as opposed to dark stars, Nicolas recognized him.

He could feel the same sort of power rolling off of the boy that he felt long ago.

A blood-red stone glittered in his hands.

Nicolas felt like going to sleep.

* * *

**A/N: End of Book 1**

* * *


	10. Ch 9 Negative One Duck

**A/N: There will ****not be a pairing in this story. My Harry is solo and don't you forget it!!!  
**

* * *

**Chapter Nine **

**Negative One Duck**

_Harry Potter became an assassin because his Aunt Petunia. When he was six, two men came to Number Four Privet Drive and introduced themselves to her. They were kind, polite, and complemented her on her spotless house. Petunia was immediately smitten, and after a few visits agreed to have Harry go to their boarding school. It had the advantage of getting rid of the boy for eleven months out of the year, and silencing any comparisons teachers might make. (After all, Dudley was her baby boy, why should he have to share the school with his cousin?)_

_And Dudley couldn't go to boarding school, Vernon wouldn't have it. So every year Harry returned for a month. He was kind, and polite; and Petunia thanked the heavens that the place seemed to instill a sense of manners in him. In return they moved him in Dudley's second bedroom, and she treated Harry with a smile once in a while, even if she never would admit it._

_Petunia never knew that Harry never felt safer than when weeding her garden._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

He was asleep but not dreaming, his mind in that strange place just before waking. These are the Soft Places of Dream's realm. Most of the time, people forget about them shortly after waking. Harry was with Delirium and they were huddled on the ground over a game drawn in chalk. If asked, Harry would not be able to explain how it was played, there weren't really any rules, and it was only instinct that told them what to do. He could say that it was played with half a deck of cards, fifteen marbles, a pair of dice and a rubber duck.

The rubber duck was winning.

"You'll be leaving soon. I miss you sometimes. It's the school, you go far away in the school,

and sometimes I can find you,

but most of the time you keep me away." Delirium said.

Harry bobbed his head, coming up with an ace and moving his blue marble four spaces downways.

"I don't really remember anything. But I sort of do. You know? Of course you know. But even if I remember, and even if I forget, it doesn't change the truth. You were still the first."

Delirium smiled. "You understand. That's nice, that's always what makes you nice." She fiddled with her her new necklace. "You'll be leaving now, even though neither of us wants that. _Episkey_."

_**Crack**_

A sharp noise woke Harry quickly and he reached under his pillow to pull out the knife he kept underneath. He could sense something to the side, so he threw it. But that something was smaller than he was expecting, so Harry adjusted his aim just to the left. It wouldn't do to kill a child. He heard a small squeal, and got up to get a proper look at his unwanted visitor.

It was an odd small brown creature with large eyes and floppy ears. One of the ears had a large gash in it, Harry's knife had gone right through. If he hadn't adjusted his aim, it would have connected with the thing's head. The creature's eyes were filled with tears, and Harry felt a small amount of pity for it. On the other hand, it was uninvited. Harry bent down to the thing, and spoke.

"I don't know what you are. I don't know who you are. I do know I didn't invite you. So I want nothing to do with you. I see you again, I won't be so nice."

The thing looked terrified, and Harry thought that the blood loss might be affecting its brain. He pulled out his wand, uncertain of what to do, and then the word just popped out of his mouth. "Episkey." And the cut healed up. And then the thing got up, and gave a small bow and spoke.

"Dobby just wanted to say that Harry Potter must be careful. Danger at Hogwarts." The thing was going to say more, but it caught a look at Harry's solemn face and disappeared. Harry took a deep breath, scanning the room, but sensing nothing else. The Leaky Cauldron was a comfortable sort of place, but this unwanted interruption made Harry unhappy. But he knew that spending anymore time on Privet Drive was a bad idea, Uncle Vernon had been driving him crazy enough.

But when Harry went down to the dining room he was in for a pleasant surprise, emerging from the fireplace was Fred Weasley. He found Ron among the other redheads gathered there.

"Oh, good, I told mum you'd be here, but I don't think that she believed the Muggles would let you stay. I think she wants you to come with us for the rest of the time. Mum, this is Harry."

A woman was brushing off the soot on a young girl, whom Harry believed to be Ron's sister. The woman stopped and looked at Harry, examining him in a way that felt quite unfamiliar. "Pleasure to meet you Harry, dear. Ron's told us all about you. I must insist that you stay with us, I daresay that you would like to spend some more time with Ron before schools starts."

The idea of staying in someone else's home made Harry uncomfortable, and he had every intention of refusing her invitation. But before he could come up with a polite way to protest she had already walked out to the Leaky Cauldron. The twins stood on either side of Harry, using this opportunity for a private chat. As it turns out they had borrowed Ron's knife once last year to break into Snape's private stores.

"So we were hoping to get one of our own. The problem is that the sort of thing is probably found in Knockturn Alley…"

"And mum won't let us go there. So maybe you could get us a couple?" Fred questioned. "We might not have enough money, but I'm sure there is something that we could do for a nice devious chap like yourself."

Harry relented, getting a future favor out of them as payment. He did not have to go down Knockturn Alley, but he wasn't going to tell them that. It was actually located in a supply store for keepers of magical creatures. The knife was an emergency tool to be used if accidentally locked in a cage with a dangerous Acromantula or something like that. The store manager looked suspiciously at Harry but didn't say anything. He bought five, these things were popular and would probably have to give more out. He also gave the store manager extra money, hoping that it would inspire him to keep his mouth shut.

He met the Weasley's at the bookstore, all of them looking flushed and excited. Ron was patting his dad on the back and spoke when he caught of Harry.

"You just missed it, Dad got in a fight with Malfoy's father." Harry scowled, he would have loved to see the elder Malfoy in person. After all of Draco's posturing he felt as if he knew the man. Ron misinterpreted his face.

"Don't worry. Dad got a good wallop on him. He didn't even see him coming"

Upon entering the Leaky Cauldron he saw Mrs. Weasley had already sent down for Harry's things. He hadn't even opened his mouth to protest when she handed him the bag of Floo powder. Looking from his hand to her face, Harry snapped his mouth shut and stepped towards the fireplace. He knew a lost battle with he saw one.

It turned out to be a good thing. The Burrow had a certain carelessness to it that Harry had never seen in a home. The Dursleys' was clean and precise, and the other places he lived all had a sense that he could pack up and leave in five minutes. He was sharing a room with Ron, which was colored Cannons orange. For some reason, the chaotic look of the room felt oddly comforting to Harry. He tossed his things into the room before going to look at the rest of the house.

He learned that Percy had his own room, where everything was worn but neat. The twins' room had a light silencing charm placed on it for everyone's hearing benefit, and there was an awful-smelling ghoul in the attic above Ron. And then he ran into the girl, Ron introduced her as Ginny.

When he heard her name, his eyes were shaded with a strange rose sort of color. And then if faded, but much to Harry's befuddlement Ginny's face stayed a perfect cherry pink. It took a moment to sink in, and then he realized she was blushing. Feeling uncomfortable, he said a polite hello, just as she was entering into her bedroom. Her shock caused her to smack right into the door, and while he was aware, he felt no need to draw attention to it, feeling the need to hide himself. Excusing himself, Harry ducked into the bathroom and leaned against the wall. He needed to clear his mind.

The colors didn't exist. When he was young, before he met the two assassins, he knew things that he shouldn't, a premonition would creep over him. But the colors only had begun to appear after he had spent sometime with them, so he knew that it wasn't real. Harry knew part of him wasn't sane. So most of what he knew was only through experience, and what he had gleaned off of other sources. Unless Harry was extremely mistaken, he had just met his soul mate.

The thought made him ill.

He barely knew her name, and now he knew this, something that would define the rest of his life. Harry planned to hide in the bathroom, and when everyone was a dinner, grab his things and run for it. But then his stomach grumbled, and his nose caught the smell of something delicious, and his legs took him downstairs despite it all.

Life wasn't fair sometimes.

But the world didn't hate him, because nobody noticed Ginny stick her elbow in the butter dish. And he was placed next the Ron's father, who seemed even more Muggle crazy than Ron described. That Harry was Muggle raised gave him a great delight and he peppered Harry with questions the entire meal.

"Can you tell me, exactly what is the purpose of a rubber duck?" Harry chuckled, the laughed until his eyes watered. The rest of the family had gone silent, looking at him with concern (Percy) and amusement (Ron). Noticing that he never answered the question, Harry spoke.

"Why to play games of course," he knew this was true.

"Games? How delightful! What kind?"

"Any kind you want." A serene smile appeared on Harry's lips. "But mostly the winning kind."

Harry ended up enjoying his week at The Burrow, he never had another strange experience when Ginny was around, although she continued to be clumsy. Mrs. Weasley was making Ron pack the night before, which caused him to be in quite the foul mood. Taking the opportunity to visit the town nearby with the twins seemed like a good option, his ears were already beginning to ring.

It turns out that Fred and George could pack quickly, they reminded each other of items the other had forgotten. They entered at toyshop, the twins disappearing into the selves, and Harry was left to wander on his own. Passing an aisle filled with plush animals, he came upon one that was filled with cheap plastic toys, and at the end was a set of ten rubber ducks. He stopped in front of them, and dug his hands into his pockets, finding that he had enough money. Summoning his nerve, he bought it, and refused to answer George to what was in the bag the entire way back. At dinner, Fred was the one who didn't let it go.

"So are you going to tell us what was in the bag Harry?"

"Don't you have fireworks to pack or something?" Harry muttered, gritting his teeth, for a brief moment understood why Ron felt overwhelmed by his brothers. George nudged his elbow into Fred and muttered, "We do have to finish packing. And I'd hate for a firework to be left behind."

The next day they all climbed into Mr. Weasley's car heading for the Hogwarts Express, Harry was amused to note it was charmed. Fortunately, they only had to return once to pick up Ginny's diary and were not late. But saying goodbye to so many children took some time, and Harry took a few of steps back to give them some privacy.

Mrs. Weasley managed to surprise him though; he wasn't quite certain how she managed to cross the distance. She gave him a brief hug, brushing her fingers on his head, and murmuring for him to comb his hair. Harry said nothing, his arms useless against his sides. He said goodbye to her, not meeting her eyes, then beat a hasty walk to find Blaise.

When Mr. And Mrs. Weasley returned that night they found a large basin of water with nine floating ducks. Each duck was given a name of the Weasley family on the duck's back. They delighted Mr. Weasley, he kept poking them down, and watching them bob to the surface, Mrs. Weasley called out from the kitchen.

"It must have been his way of saying thank you, I noticed that he seemed a bit uncomfortable saying goodbye. A little odd, if not sweet."

"Molly, there is something written on the bottom of the ducks as well! I think it some sort of message." He was right.

When they were lined up by oldest to youngest Weasley the ducks read:

_The games will never end. Thank you for everything._

Tucked into a trunk was the last duck from the set of ten. It was going to Hogwarts, neatly labeled with Harry's name. He was looking out the window hoping that one day he might have the courage to add it with the others.

* * *


	11. Ch 10 Two Deaths and Some Halves

**Chapter Ten**

**Two Deaths, and some Halves.**

_The men's last attack had failed, and they had to lay low far away from their homes. Then they discovered Harry. Stumbling on his abilities after watching Harry help his cousin evade an oncoming car, the men started to plan. Then knew that genetically, it should be impossible for a wizard to do it, wand-wielders magic differed from theirs._

_Both were magic, just different ways of expressing it. Wizards used wands to make things float or change color, while the assassins abilities were more dangerous, but at times impractical. The worlds were hidden from each other, jealously could bring war, and it would destroy them both._

_But they wanted to take the opportunity before them, the assassins knew that having a wizard loyal to only them would be an advantage that no one would anticipate, so the men planned. They observed the family, noting their personalities and caught sight of the blood wards surrounding the home. Discovering a way around them would be difficult, because no harm could befall Harry as long as they were up._

_But the two men were masters of trickery and discovered the loophole, as long Harry called Number Four home, they would not fall. After all, their plan could not succeed if they caught the wizard's attention. So they would have to try coercion and blackmail. (They did not realize that maintaining the blood wards prevented their primary goal, making Harry theirs.)_

_Plans in place, they rang the doorbell._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry was having a fantastic year. It turns out that after months of experimentation and frustration, he had finally grasped the magic thing. He was no longer an abysmal student, he had now risen to the ranks of mediocre. Draco wasted no time getting on Harry's nerves, complaining how Dobby the house-elf had been useless the last week of summer. Apparently it was so bad that he had to pack his own trunk. Harry put aside his own confusion to why people with magic needed help running their homes, and thought about the warning. He didn't know what to think of Dobby belonging to the Malfoys, he had seen the thing was very scared. Of course he had no idea how much of that was because he threw a knife at it.

Harry had Herbology with the Ravenclaws, and all of the second years were working on Mandrakes this year. He had a hard time admitting it, but the idea of a killing plant fascinated him. It never occurred to him before, and frequently his mind would drift off when Professor Sprout was speaking and imagine his classmates dying one by one. He was never included in these daydreams. Blaise and Su kept him on task, but more often than not he ended up with fuzzy pink earmuffs, while the others looked a bit more sensible.

Snape, it appeared had come to accept that Harry was in his house. He never called on him, and rarely gave him high scores on his homework. On the other hand, he wasn't so keen to place Harry in detention either, a mercy Harry did not question. Draco was somewhat upset at this, there was no clear leader in their year between Harry's fame and his money. Having their Head of House constantly put down his challenger was enough for Draco to feel confident. Although it was a moot point in many ways, Harry was more powerful, but he didn't care.

But as annoying as Draco was, that was very little compared to Gilderoy Lockhart. Ron complained how their first class had been set loose with a cage of Cornish Pixies, while Hermoine defended Lockhart. Blaise had smirked at this, picking on Hermione was a pastime of his, and if it weren't for their mutual friendship of Harry it was doubtful they would get along. Harry could hardly believe the ego on that man.

Lockhart had an air of incompetence to him, and Harry could see it was genuine, unlike Quirrell's stutter. Harry had seen people with real power before, and they were silent people, rarely bragging on their feats. They let their actions speak for themselves. Lockhart's bragging did nothing but make him seem like a liar. But Harry did read every single one of those books that was assigned to the class. Ron and Blaise looked at him like he was crazy when he admitted this, while Hermione congratulated him on applying himself. Seeing the look of adoration on her face, Harry felt the need to explain himself.

"It wasn't hard. You know I've always liked myths." She shot him a glare, while Ron tried to smother his laughter.

He had learned quite a bit from the books, despite his teasing. Lockhart claimed to have traveled the globe, and Harry recognized some of the details that confirmed this. The events in the story were glossy and well wrapped, and Harry did not believe it, no one was that good. The books were incredible popular, and provided an excellent insight to the wizarding world, it was consumed with image. That parents would let someone who's only obvious talent was brilliant teeth proved the point.

Harry was given a detention by him one night, which he only did because Snape was going to anyway. He arrived to Lockhart's office after dinner, half tempted to show up to Snape's office anyway. Grimacing, he opened the door.

He was blinded with the color purple, Lockhart had covered the office from top to bottom with banners of his favorite color and dotted throughout were pictures of the Professor himself.

Harry wished he was with Snape, he preferred the enemy he knew.

Lockhart waved him over, flapping the large pink quill that was in his hand. "Harry, welcome. You're just in time, I was about to start answering my fan mail. You'll be addressing the envelopes of course."

For the next four hours Lockhart babbled of the finer points of fame. Harry only half listened to him, picking up some details. But for the most part, he spent the time thinking of various places he could shove the pink quill.

The Friday afternoon gatherings continued, and grew more popular as it took place after History of Magic. It was one of the few classes that contained all first years. All of Gryffindor was there and half of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Harry and Blaise managed to coerce Daphne Greengrass into coming with them, they were feeling a bit outnumbered. Daphne sometimes sat with them at the dinner table, but for the most part she stayed aloof. Her best friend was a cousin that was a third year, so she did not socialize with their year much.

However, she had a cool composition, and proved to be a match of wits with both Hermione and Terry, much to Blaise's delight. She liked to crawl under people's skin with underhanded comments. Harry didn't mind this, although he did warn her that his parents were never to be included, it was something he didn't tolerate.

One morning in mid-October, Blaise took a large gasp and nearly choked on his breakfast. Harry, who had been listening to Daphne explain unorthodox ways cleaning charms, looked at him. He was holding a copy of _The Daily Prophet_, and written in bold letters was something that struck Harry as foreboding.

**Famous Immortal Wizards Flamel Dead**

Nicolas Flamel, 667, and his wife Pernelle were found dead yesterday evening by a nearby neighbor. She arrived to the house for her weekly visit, and upon finding no response, entered. There she found both Pernelles lying in bed, and contacted the Ministry. They were confirmed dead, shortly there after. The Flamel's were well known in the Wizarding and Muggle worlds for the creation of the Philosopher's Stone, which granted them immortality and could turn metal into gold.

Searching the house, they found no trace of the Stone, but a letter left behind revealed that the Flamels had destroyed it themselves. (_Continued on pg. 5)_

"The Flamels are dead. Can you believe that?" Blaise waved around the newspaper. "I've met them a couple of times, one of my step-fathers worked in alchemy. I can't imagine what they were thinking." Daphne shook her head. "They had everything, money, fame, and time." She pressed her lips together. "It's not as if there is a large war going on. If there was great political turmoil, I can almost understand. But even during the Dark Lord's reign they still lived. Why choose now to die?"

Harry looked at their ages, sometimes he felt 667, and he couldn't imagine how they had felt when they had lived it. "Maybe they were just tired." He half joked. Seeing the unbelieving looks on Blaise and Daphne's faces, he said nothing more, letting their theories wash over him.

Halloween came and by this time Harry was somewhat relaxed. He had begun to believe that the warning Dobby had given him was fake, a joke by Draco. His classes had been going somewhat well, and not even Snape giving him a detention before the feast for "being happy" could ruin the mood. However, when everyone was dismissed from the feast a strange sight greeted the school. Mrs. Norris was frozen like a statue, and written on the wall was this:

**The Chamber has Opened**

**Enemies of the Heir Beware**

Someone shifted to Harry's right, Draco had turned to address someone.

"You'll be next Mudbloods!" There was a faint smirk on his mouth, and Harry was shocked. He had never heard this tone of venom and arrogance from him before. He wondered if this is what Dobby tried to warn him about.

Dumbledore and the rest of the staff were coming over now and some words were spoken before the students were sent back to their common room.

Inside their dormitory, Harry immediately confronted Draco.

"What was that supposed to mean?" Draco's smirk promptly dropped. The other boys in the room watched the confrontation in silence, although Vincent and Gregory stood behind Draco, giving Harry a glare. It would have been enough to silence any normal twelve year old. Draco raised his head, and Harry narrowed his eyes.

"There are rumors that the Chamber of Secrets have been opened before, fifty years ago. Some people said that a Mudblood even died. Everyone knows that the Chamber of Secrets answers to the Heir of Slytherin alone. Mudbloods, better watch out, and you should too."

Harry frowned, then got ready for bed. The others took this as a sign of compliance, and the stalemate was broken. Blaise gaped at Harry, surprised to see him fold, while another boy went to spread the word to the rest of the house. _Draco was leader of the younger years, Harry Potter had backed down._

Draco Malfoy felt confident, and went out into the common room thinking he had just found respect and power. Most believed Harry was frightened of the message on the wall, he was only a half-blood after all. But Harry was thinking of none of this.

He had pulled the curtains around him shut and lay in silence. All Harry could think of was the message on the wall.

The Chamber of Secrets had opened.

And he felt no fear.

The next day he was going to Great Hall when he crossed Ginny Weasley. She looked a bit odd, and Harry took off his glasses. Perhaps they were a bit smudged, he couldn't remember when was the last time he wiped them off. Sitting next to Daphne, he poured himself a glass of juice. He could feel her stare, but did the best to ignore it. It was Blaise who broke the silence.

"Well? Are you going to tell us what last night was all about?" Harry's eyebrows raised, his toast halfway to his mouth.

"What do you mean?"

"I was under the impression that you were powerful. That you had plans, that you could change things. And the minute that Malfoy shows a backbone, you turn tail and hide behind your curtains!" Blaise delivered this in a fierce whisper and then Daphne spoke.

"We thought you could lead us. It turns out you are just a disappointment."

Harry pumpkin juice shouldn't have made his stomach feel so cold. "What inspired this? I didn't do anything."

Daphne snarled. "Exactly, you did nothing. Slytherin is a house of the powerful, Potter! And you just proved yourself weak." With that she rose and sat next to her cousin further down the table.

Harry turned to Blaise. He was still sitting there, but he looked like his owl had just been killed. Harry had the urge to burst out in mad laughter, but restrained himself. Proving himself crazy would be a poor idea. Instead, he settled for eating his toast in silence. And when all of Slytherin arose for class Harry whispered so only Blaise could hear him.

"Why would I go for Draco, when I can go for the Heir?" Blaise's head whipped toward Harry, who shrugged his shoulders carelessly. Feeling more confident, Blaise headed with Harry to class, mentioning theories the school had created. The cat had not died, instead it was Petrified, and everyone wondered what could cause this effect. Harry listened intently, never showing the small hurt he got from Daphne's disappointment, and Blaise's lack of faith.

He wondered if Ron would have done that.

A bluish tint grew around Ginny grew stronger as November dragged on. Harry wasn't certain what to make of it, as far as he knew, blue was defined as illusion (things are not as they seem). Perhaps there was an alternate idea he was unfamiliar with. He would have asked her what was wrong; but quite frankly, he couldn't get himself to care.

Hermione was in a foul mood the first week, and refused to talk to anyone about it. Harry was grateful that he had few classes with her. But she was still silent on the Friday gathering, and everyone pestered her with questions. Finally, she confessed to the others what was going on.

"They're all out of copies of _Hogwarts, a History._"

"And why would anyone bother reading that book Granger?" Blaise enquired. He enjoyed challenging her.

"Because everyone is trying to catch up on the Chamber of Secrets. And it's the only book that even speaks about it. I've checked," she replied. Terry nodded in agreement.

"Oh, is that all? I don't know why you didn't ask about it earlier. I know all about the Chamber." Everyone's heads snapped to Harry.

"And you kept this quiet?" Ron asked. Noticing Ernie's, Terry's and Su's glares Harry gave a broad smile. The only one that wasn't upset was Blaise, and Harry believed it was because he knew the story already.

"It's not my fault you didn't ask. You know that I'm in expert in legends. I should have been the first person you turned to." Hermoine flushed.

"Salazar Slytherin created the Chamber of Secrets before he left, it was rumored to contain a beast that only his heir could control. The heir was to eliminate the Muggle-born students from the school, because Slytherin believed them to be unworthy of attending Hogwarts. Because Slytherin was a Parselmouth, it is widely believed that the creature was some sort of snake, and that the entrance could only be opened with snake language. There's a lot more speculation, but that's the most factual bits of it." Everyone grew quiet wondering about the heir, and Harry didn't gather the nerve to mention his own secret.

A Quidditch game took place the next day between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Harry wasn't sure who to cheer for. He did want his team to win, but the problem was Draco had bought his way into the Seeker position by supplying Slytherin with new Nimbus 2001s. The fact that other people better than Draco had tried out, but it didn't matter because of money, left Harry disgruntled. Blaise, who was accustomed to Draco's tendencies, did not help this by pointing out facts of the new Nimbus.

The Gryffindor Chasers were very good, and as a result they only lost by twenty points. Draco caught the snitch because the Gryffindor Seeker, Cormac McClaggen, had managed to get himself hit on the head with a bludger.

The next day dawned cool, and Harry wrapped himself in extra layers. Blaise entered the room, and Harry wondered what he was doing up so early. It was rare for the others to rise before him.

"There's been another attack. I guess some first year wanted to take some food to the Gryffindor seeker that got hit yesterday. Petrified, just like the mangy furball."

Entering the Great Hall, Harry could see all of the students spreading the news of the latest attack. He and Blaise went to the Slytherin Table, keeping this out for Ron. Maybe he would have more news. All of the Weasley's came down together, and Harry felt as if he had just been flipped upside down into a vat of snow.

Because the color that surrounded the youngest Weasley had changed, it was the now the same he saw everyday on Quirrell last year.

Soulmate? Guess not.

She would have to live that long, for one thing.


	12. Ch 11 Two Orphans

**Chapter Eleven**

**Two Orphans**

Destruction was the Prodigal brother of the Endless. He wasn't called that anymore though, had abandoned his realm when Muggles began to use science. He knew that people would go as far as they could, it was in their nature. Many terrible things could happen with knowledge, so he gathered his siblings and told them he was leaving. He felt it was time for a change. Things would still be destroyed, it would not be the brother's fault, and the humans would have no one to blame but themselves.

So now he spent some time attempting to create things, an exploration of his nature as an Endless. It was never very successful, but he felt it was time better then holed up in gloom the way Dream did at times.

One day he was at a festival and saw something odd, there was a man making animals out of balloons. It was the sort of thing that his youngest sister would do, and missing her a bit, he headed towards the man. He asked for instructions on how to make these balloons, and the man showed him.

Despite the instructions, the only thing the brother could make properly was a sword. He saw the man growing frustrated, and he gave the man a pat on the back and thanked him. He could make a sword, that was something he had never done before, and it was enough.

The crowd was thinning now and he saw a family of four walking away. There were two boys about the same age, one small and thin, the other large and loud. They were about six. Passing them by he heard the large boy asking his mother for a balloon sword of his own. He turned around.

"You can have this. I was going to give it to my sister, but I don't know when I'll see her next." He handed it over and looked at the dark-haired boy, an apology on his lips because he didn't have two. But instead of a stranger, he saw his siblings.

The boy was wrapped in chains like Destiny.

He had the knowing wisdom of Death.

There was the brooding nature of Dream,

The pulsating heart of Desire,

The pain of Despair, and

The joyful mind of Delirium.

Shocked, the Prodigal brother left, feeling quite glad he did not have another sword to give to the second boy, unknowing that he had already left a mark of his own.

Later, the balloon would blow out of Dudley Dursley's hands and onto a busy street.

Later, Harry would will himself a little bit faster, and a little bit stronger to save his cousin from an oncoming car.

Later, two men would see the boy's action as an opportunity for power.

Later, Harry's sense of innocence would be destroyed far too young.

Because the brother may have ceased his responsibilities; but it did not change who he was.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry spent the next few days getting little sleep. Ginny wasn't evil, if anything she was quite pathetic. He was confident that she had not learned Dark Magic from her parents; there was something more to this. But there was no doubt in Harry's mind that she was the cause of the attack last night, against her classmate no less. Harry mulled his options while going through his trunk.

Logically, he should kill her, she was hurting innocent people. Emotionally, he felt no guilt about it, he could easily hide her death and no one would know. Although he didn't think he would be able to be friends with Ron anymore, that would be too much of a lie. But Harry didn't know how that conversation would go.

"_Sorry but we can't be friends anymore. You see I'm an assassin and I killed your only sister because she was actually trying to kill her housemates. I'll send you a Christmas card though_."

And that was one of the better explanations.

But Harry didn't want to do that. Quirrell-kill aside, he thought he was doing a fairly good job at being normal, and being normal included having best friends. And if he killed her, then he couldn't really talk to the Weasley's again. He remembered the time at the Burrow, a light touch of his hair, and hand on his shoulder. He pulled out one of the knives he had hidden, withdrawing it so it gleamed in the dull lamplight. It was still sharp.

He knew what he should do, what he had been trained in over and over again.

But there are ways around everything, and Harry made his choice. Wavering slightly, he put the knife back in his trunk. For Ron's sake, Harry decided to find another option. (_But even as he thought this, he knew he was lying. He was just a little bit selfish and wanting to keep his friends._)

He finally settled on confronting her in a busy hallway when she was alone. If anything he could pick up some more clues, and maybe he wouldn't have to see Mrs. Weasley's heart break.

He got his chance a week later when she was coming out of Charms. Flitwick had held her back because her classwork had been suffering because her partner was the same boy in the hospital doing a remarkable impression of a statue. (He found the irony fitting.) He stepped into a shortcut, emerging from a tapestry just as she was rounding a corner. She flushed, and Harry stepped close to her, and Ginny leaned against the wall. He was a breath away from her now, eyes hard and looking more like an assassin than he had in two years.

"I know what you've been up to."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, clutching her bag with tight hands, far to tightly in fact.

"Hand it over." This close to her he could see the dark circles under her eyes, much like the ones on his own face last year. She must not have gotten enough sleep.

"Hand what over?" She was trembling, and Harry knew that she was lying. He remained silent because he didn't actually know what he was asking for. He would let the silence drive her to her own conclusion. He saw her hand twitch to her bag. It was enough of a response for Harry to act and took the bag off her shoulder. She protested weakly, Harry barely heard her as he turned it upside down so the contents flopped on the floor.

He found nothing remarkable, only schoolbooks and crumpled pieces of paper. Glancing at them he saw the words "_fresh pickled toad_," clearly Potions notes bunched up in annoyance. One of the inkwells had broken, and splattered its contents. The floor was covered, but right in the middle was a small black book, and much to Harry's astonishment, he saw the book absorb the ink, then disappear. Reaching for it slowly, he watched Ginny stiffen from the corner of his eye. Success. He placed the book in his pocket, and walked away, leaving a shattered inkwell and a distraught Ginny behind.

Harry had to wait for a Quidditch game two weeks later before he could properly examine it. He didn't know of a place where he could be uninterrupted. So he pleaded illness to Blaise, and hoped that the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff seekers were as unremarkable as last year. Room empty, he dipped his quill into ink and drew a line in it. This too disappeared. A memory of Ginny writing in a diary, and part of Harry was grateful that it appeared blank. He didn't think he could handle any of that drivel. The only thing he could think of was to write in the book, but he was wary. Coming up with nothing else he wrote:

Christmas List

A pause then, he couldn't think of what he should give people. This giving thing was still new to him after all. Then the ink faded, and words appeared.

"_It is __Christmas time then?"_

Harry jolted. In all of the myths he had read, objects never responded back, well not unless if there was a person trapped inside. Magic was wonderful.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"_My name is Tom Riddle, yours?"_

He was about to respond, when he remembered a story of a magical dwarf and a miller's daughter . Sometimes names have power.

"Mark Evans."

"_Hello Mark. How did you come by my diary?"_

"I found it on the floor, I thought it was blank. How is this yours?"

"_It was originally my diary. I recorded my memories of things that happened at Howarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."_

"I'm at Hogwarts now. We had quite a ruckus earlier; someone opened the Chamber of Secrets."

"_That happened when I was here too, I caught the culprit. It was horrible, but they gave me a shiny plaque in hopes of me keeping silent."_

"Well no one got hurt here, and they already caught the person who did it. It was some Gryffindor girl, and to think that the school tried to blame it on us Slytherins." There was a small lie there, but Harry felt no guilt.

"_You're in Slytherin. That was my house, I even made prefect._"

"Of course, I'm in Slytherin. Cunning and ambition is a necessity when you're an orphan." Harry swore. He may not have given the diary his name, but personal information wasn't going to help either. He could see how Ginny got attached to the stupid thing.

"_Mark, you and I are a lot alike, my parents died as well. My times before Howgarts were difficult, but the teachers were good to me there. Magic was a right that I had, and_ _they showed me how to use it. Hogwarts was,"_ a pause then, as if Tom were searching for the right word.

"It was like coming home." Harry finished. He felt compelled to write more now, his writing becoming more hasty. "I wish the teachers were like that now, it's not that they are bad, it is that I don't feel like I can trust them."

"_You need to approach them it the right manner. I'll show you how it's done. You can trust me."_

Harry snorted. So the diary could lie too. He pressed his quill to the page to write a negative reply, this was enough examination for now. But instead it sank into the page and Harry followed. Landing on his feet, he looked around. Everything was blurry and there was a slight grey tinge and flatness. There stood a handsome and tall boy, whose hair would have resembled Harry's if it were considerably wilder. He was talking to a rotund man with a rather impressive mustache. There were cauldrons bubbling behind him and Harry guessed that it was the Potions teacher. A calendar was on the wall, and he walked up to it, the date read 1941.

"Why Tom, what is it that I can help you with this evening?"

"Hello, sir. I was looking through some of the pamphlets of career advice." The professor interrupted Tom then, but Harry could tell it was because of enthusiasm rather than rudeness.

"That's for fifth years. Although it doesn't surprise me that someone like you would be interested in this." Harry saw Tom give a polite smile, it reminded him eerily of himself.

"Sir, I was looking through the potions pamphlets, alchemy specifically, and I saw the name of a book I want to check out. I was hoping you would give me per…ssion to look at…, it's in … Restricted Sec…"

Harry did not need to learn how to wheedle information out of people. And he was also certain that Lockhart would give him permission to stab the Minister of Magic if it meant that he got to sign his name. And so the images began to fade and the spoken words started to break up as he grew impatient. Harry was expelled out of the book, crashing on his trunk and tipping its contents over. He promptly flung the book to a corner of the room and collapsed on his things.

Now that he was out of the book, he could think properly. _It had controlled him._ He hadn't said yes, but the thing showed him the memory anyway. Harry really did feel sick now. And this Riddle attended Hogwarts when the Chamber was opened last too. Harry turned his head, startled to see a rubber duck next to his head, his name written in green ink.

A thought popped into his head, "_**It's better to be a rubber duck than a sitting duck**_**.**"

He started to laugh, not quite sure what it meant, but knowing it to be true. When it subsided, he picked up the duck to set it back in his trunk and the world exploded in color. The diary was swirling with energy now, black, red and green all vying for dominance. But Harry was calm, knowing that what he was seeing was possibility, not actuality, and the danger was imagined. Harry heard a noise too, very light. He picked up the book and flipped a page. The sound again, it sounded like a sigh. He flipped page after page and with a jolt he realized that the book was _breathing_. And then he saw ink rise from the pages again, only this time it was the color of blood, spelling out a name, Tom Marvolo Riddle. Then the letters rearranged themselves

**i aM loRd voldemorT.**

Harry dropped the book and the rubber duck, and the world righted itself. Somehow the seemingly innocent black book was Voldemort and using Ginny to open the Chamber. He didn't know what kind of magic it was, this was far beyond his level. It would take years before he was good enough to destroy it, but at least this dangerous thing wasn't with a moron.

Thinking of morons made him think of Draco, leaving the diary in the same room with him was a poor idea. Then again, Harry didn't want to carry it around like he did with the Cloak. The idea of giving it to Dumbledore crossed his mind, McGonagall would probably take him up to the office if he asked. But then he would have to explain where he got it, and remembering Mrs. Weasley's gentle hug was enough for him to toss that idea. He couldn't do that to her.

No, he would have to hide it, and pick it up later when he knew what it was. And it needed to be someplace odd, his usual haunts wouldn't do, Ginny might be foolish enough to search for it. She did think it was just a diary after all. Harry looked over at Draco's bed, and saw the stack of letters written by his parents were placed on top. Perfect.

Ten minutes later and Harry was up in the Owlery. He had only been up here once to send a letter to the Dursley's last Christmas. He went over to the far wall, and bent down. The floor was filthy, covered in droppings and such. He counted to the fifth floorboard, which was particularly disgusting, and withdrew his knife. He stabbed it into the floor, and it popped easily into his hands. Harry was pleased; he thought that the knife only worked on locks. He tied the diary to a beam underneath, and placed the board back down. Then he went back downstairs to wash his hands and lay in bed, arriving just in time as the Quidditch game finished.

And the Chamber of Secrets was closed again.

* * *

**A/N:** The story with the miller's daughter was Rumpelstiltskin, of course.


	13. Ch 12 One Skill, One Secret

**Chapter Twelve **

**One skill, one secret**

Tom Riddle was fourteen years old, but was already highly thought of. Even those in their final year of Hogwarts looked to him for some measure of guidance. It was a pleasurable thought to Tom. He knew that magic was in his blood, and already he had learned quite a few things that would take some adult wizards by surprise. But one thing annoyed him, wizards still died. He had made light statements to teachers and as far as he could determine, no one was able to avoid it. Slughorn had pointed out one man who had done a remarkable job at it, Nicolas Flamel.

He had made a few inquiries into alchemy, and as so far, it seemed to be Tom's only option for immortality. But he was not done looking. Flamel said he found inspiration for his Stone in a book called _Power of Dreams_ By Astoria Teller. However, Tom discovered the book was not even in the Restricted Section, rather delegated to the section of Divination. This cause some doubts to its usefulness, but he took the book off the shelf. Flipping to a page, Tom read.

_Despite people's first instinct, Dream of the Endless has as much power as his siblings. Not only does Dream capture our sleeping hours, but our waking. Dream is the Lord of Stories, they all are his, they all are Him. Sleeping at night brings all to his realm each night, yet it is few who can remember it upon waking. This is proof of our weakness, and his power._

Upon reading the word 'weakness' Tom lost interest. _This book was clearly rubbish_, he thought. With that, he placed the book back on the shelf, and cast his eye once more to the Restricted Section. If Tom had not been so hasty, he could have saved himself a great deal of trouble by reading the next paragraph

_Dream of the Endless is a lonely figure; his purpose demands it. Because of this, he is close only to his older sister Death, whose power holds no limits. She too is a solitary figure, who holds great dedication to her responsibilities. He holds great respect for her, so while he seeks her opinion rarely, it is influential. In turn, he is the only other who knows how to avoid her power. For there are ways around everything, and the Lord of Stories can create them all._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The next day there was a note of the formation of a Dueling Club. Intrigued, Harry immediately signed up.

"Do you think that it's a wise idea Harry, it takes you forever to learn spells, you know?" Blaise questioned, scrawling his name next. Harry laughed.

"Maybe not. But I've always been better at practical work. Besides, at least it will be some excitement."

Blaise raised his eyebrow. "The Heir of Slytherin Petrifying people is not excitement for you?"

Harry painted an innocent expression on his face, and waved his hand dramatically. "Oh that? I knew there was something I needed to tell you. I already figured out who the Heir is. We had some words. I came out the victor." Blaise stared. Harry got the impression that he didn't believe him and explained. "Unless something goes wrong, there won't be anymore victims. Let that be your proof."

Blaise protested at this. "But no one knows you did anything. How will that make Daphne think that you aren't weak?" Daphne had not spoken to Blaise or Harry since Halloween, something that Harry was not going to forget without extracting a little extra for an apology. Harry looked out the window, a bird was flying up to the Owlery.

"Oh, I'll think of something."

The day of the Dueling Club arrived. Most of the school was in the Great Hall, and a large platform was erected in the middle. Blaise believed that Snape was the instructor, and was quivering in anticipation for a good duel. Harry held no such hope, the platform was three different shades of purple. Lockhart came out, his robes shimmering from the glow of the candles floating above the school. Harry ignored him then, instead trying to find Ron among the Gryffindors. It appeared he was arguing with Hermoine.

Snape came out looking as malicious as ever, and for once, Harry found himself on the same side as his head of house. They bound to each other and began to duel.

Well, sort of, Lockhart didn't perform a single spell before Snape flung him halfway across the room and Lockhart's wand sailed across the room. Harry was glad the night wasn't an entire waste, had heard Snape quite clearly. Then the school broke up into pairs, and Blaise promised to take it easy on him as they both attempted the spell.

"_Expelliarmus_"

To both of their surprise, Blaise's wand went flying in the air. The both stared stupidly when it landed on the ground ten feet away. It had landed by Daphne's feet. Arching her eyebrow, she gave Harry a brief glance when Blaise went to pick it up. Harry turned his back to her, he didn't want to talk to her, not even silently.

"You got that spell on the first try. I can't believe it, you are actually good at something!" Blaise ribbed Harry, covering up for the awkward silence.

Harry was about to respond when he heard Lockhart's voice, protesting something. Looking around he saw that most people had been hexing each other with different spells. He could see Ron tap dancing, while Draco was vomiting up slugs. Lockhart was ineffective, and Snape let him flounder a bit before taking control. Deciding it would be best to show a brief demonstration, Lockhart scanned the audience for a pair.

Harry decided that it would be a lovely time to tie his shoelaces.

When he got back up from the floor, he saw Ron and Draco on the platform. Snape whispered something in Draco's ear, and Lockhart showed Ron a wand movement that resulted in a dropped wand. Harry felt a pang of pity for him.

And then they both cast a spell. Ron's aim was off and it would have hit Snape if he hadn't blocked it. But a large snake came blasting out of Draco's wand, and Ron didn't move. Unfortunately, Lockhart came to Ron's rescue, and blasted it into the air, where it landed, hissing, next to Justin Fitch-Fetchley. The world flashed green, and Harry knew Justin was going to die. But there was something he could do that would stop it. It would pull him from the obscurity that he like to keep, but Harry had spent enough time doing nothing while people died. So he spoke.

"_Don't move_." The snake turned towards Harry, and he could feel Blaise tense next to him. In fact, the room had turned silent, and Harry pressed his advantage. He knew that Lockhart would take advantage of any victory possible, and botch what he was trying to do.

"_The boy did not harm you, he had no intention."_

"_I need to attack, that was my purpose! And he will do just nicely."_ The snake was writhing dangerously, so Harry strode forward.

"_I cannot allow you to do that."_ At this the snake turned and headed towards him.

"_You do not control me!"_ It darted towards him, and Harry back stepped, going towards the platform, but never leaving his eyes on the snake. Everyone cleared a path for them, and Harry knew that this was his opportunity. He reached into his pocket for his knife, when the snake vanished in a wisp of black smoke. Snape was behind Harry, with his wand outstretched, and there was a faint look of surprise on his face as he studied Harry.

"Oh well, that would work too." Harry said calmly. Wizards loved image, if he acted like everything was normal, then they would follow his lead.

"Just what do you think you're playing at?" Justin asked, before rushing out of the room, his face pale with fear.

So much for calm.

The Club was dismissed then, and Harry hoped it would be for good. Someone as inept as Lockhart shouldn't be in charge of this sort of thing. He waited a bit, while everyone was rushed to their common rooms. When he left the Great Hall, Ron and Hermione were waiting outside of the door.

"Why didn't you tell us you were a Parselmouth?" Ron blurted. Harry was glad that it never occurred to him that Harry could have been on to open the Chamber.

"You never asked." He saw that Hermione's mouth was pressed into a thin line and he hastened to finish his sentence. "I've only done it once and I thought it was cool. But when I became a wizard I found out that Voldemort was one too, and I didn't feel like spreading it around. I don't like to think that I'm anything like him." A look of sympathy crossed her face. "Anyway, I got to go. Damage control, you know?"

The words Tom had written in the diary echoed in his mind as he walked away.

"_You and I are a lot alike_."

Harry wished he could deny it.

Entering the Slytherin Common room, he saw everyone; they had been waiting for him, giving him looks of suspicion and respect. They were silent as Harry went to his room, Draco on his heels.

"Father told me I should stay out of the way of the Heir before I came this year, I didn't know he meant about you. I begged him to tell me."

"Oh?" He was pulling out his change of clothes. Draco had just confirmed that his father had something to do with the diary landing in Ginny Weasley's hands. He supposed that was how Dobby found out about it.

"He said that you would clean up the filth that was in the school."

Harry kept his back turned when he responded. "It shows how little you know Draco. I started last year. Stay out of my business."

With that, he pulled his curtains shut.

From then on, everyone was convinced that Harry was the one who had opened the Chamber of Secrets, and with his cover blown, attacked no one else. He would get looks of fear from the majority of the school, sometimes taunts, while the older Slytherins looked at him with respect. Draco lost his short-lived status as a prominent member, it was clear that Harry commanded power of his own. The second year pure-bloods in Slytherin respected that he may have some potential, but knowing that his ideals were different, stayed apart. Daphne recognizing that she had been wrong about Harry, appeared once more to the Friday gatherings after being absent since her spat with him.

The first-years, on the other hand, gravitated to him, and frequently asked his opinion on even the most mundane things. Harry was old enough to get their respect, but it was also a bit awkward since he didn't know half of what they were taking about. His opinions would circle rapidly and although he did not know it, they feared him as much as they respected him.

Yes, Hogwarts believed that Harry was the Heir, well, except for all the people that _knew_ him. This was Harry, the boy who gave back Neville's Remembrall, who carried an extra quill in case someone needed a spare, the one couldn't turn a toothpick into a needle for a month; and started every Friday gathering with a joyful round of "Ways Professor Lockhart could die."

Well, that last one was rather damning.

Harry had made friends across House lines, overlooking people's bad habits and quirks, and preferred to _know_ whom they were. So his friends did the same. The idea that he would hurt people because of blood was ridiculous. In fact, the following Friday, Ernie had dragged Justin over so he could hear an explanation from Harry himself. He tried his best but Justin was still looking at him warily. In fact it wasn't until Neville spoke up that Justin calmed down.

"Harry could have just let the snake attack you Justin. Instead, he spoke up, even though everyone thinks the Heir would have to speak Parseltongue. He knew that most of the school might hate him, but you were more important." The intensity of Neville's face caught Harry by surprise, and another small pang of guilt and jealousy rose in his stomach. If they only knew Harry was far and away from being a saint. He doubt he had ever been as earnest as Neville.

There was an awkard silence, and seeing that Harry was a deep in thought, Ron spoke up.

"Well, I think I'm going to give a shot at killing Lockhart this week," he said.

Justin paled next to Ernie, and Harry silently cursed Ron's phrasing. Fortunately, Ron had a rather comic idea for Lockhart's death involving his up and coming line of hair care products that was as ridiculous as it was unlikely. Justin eased after that, and everyone drifted on into their own little groups and soon he was enjoying himself just as much as the others. Harry took an opportunity to talk to Daphne.

"I thought you said I was weak?" he asked her in a mild tone, but refusing to give eye contact.

"I may have been wrong Potter." she said. "Harry." At his first name he looked at her, giving an unimpressed look.

"Daphne, you need to know this. I'm not about appearances. In fact, I don't give a damn about appearances. Because those things can change, they can be as fickle as the wind, and they can lie. And if that's all you care about, well then, I guess we aren't friends." Harry said, standing up when he finished. He could see Blaise give him a concerned look on the other side of the room. As a result, the card from his hand slipped, and his Howarts Card Castle exploded in smoke. Harry walked over to Hannah Abbot, determined not to think of Daphne anymore.

But when the meeting was over, she waited for Blaise and Harry to go to the common room. And on the way there, she spoke to both of them, keeping her face forward.

"I've been warned by my cousin that I shouldn't be casting my trust with someone that wasn't good enough. I didn't listen to her at first, because I thought you had potential, and when you didn't, I felt shamed. But now things have changed and all she does is want to talk about you, Harry. It's stupid, and it proves you right. So what I'm trying to say is," and with this she stopped and turned around to face the both of them. "I won't care about appearances either as long as you have power. So, do you?" Harry looked at her curiously, that was a thing he liked about Daphne, she was so honest to the point of cruelty, and demanded honesty in return. Because of this, he liked to be vague and mysterious, it made her mad.

"Well, I have secrets, speaking Parseltounge was just one of them. And I also have my name. Does that count?" Harry asked, deliberately taking his time to answer her question. Blaise gave his own smirk, playing along.

"Don't be ridiculous. As if the name Harry Potter means anything." Seeing Daphne's face crack into a smile of her own, Harry looped his arm around hers and spoke the password to the Slytherin Dungeons.

"Pureblood."

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Dream's plan had not come to fruition. Harry was to destroy the basilisk with the Sword of Gryffindor in the Chamber of Secrets. The clues were all there, and Dream believed the boy intelligent enough to piece them together. It was to be the elimination of piece of Voldemort, specifically the student who had once scorned Dream. It would have been its own legend, one that would circulate the school but very few would have believed. Years from now, students that were sent to the Headmaster's office should have been told how Harry Potter killed thousand-year old snake with his courage and a legendary sword.

However, Dream did not make note of two things. One was Delirium's friendship with Harry had infiltrated his mind. This caused Harry to discover the diary for what it was sooner. The second was that Harry would be unable to wield the sword of Gryffindor. It was enchanted with magic that would prohibit it from landing in the hands of someone unworthy, those that did not possess the qualities the house was known for. Harry was not brave, because courage is action in the face of fear, and there was very little that frightened him. Instead he practiced caution, delaying the enemy instead of direct confrontation.

So Dream waited.

* * *


	14. Ch 13 Eight Handfuls of Sand

**Chapter Thirteen**

**Eight Handfuls of Sand**

* * *

"_**And then he reached out his hand and picked up the Land. And then it crumbled in his hand. It was just dust, sand, glittering multicolored sand that fell away into the chilly wind at the end of the world."**_

Dream fulfills his responsibility, from _A Game of You_

* * *

The holiday's came, and much to Harry's dismay, Draco, Vincent, and Greg stayed behind as well, but all of his friends were leaving. Ron had asked Harry to keep an eye on them, he was quite convinced that Draco was the Heir. Uncomfortable with sharing that Ginny was responsible, he gave a half-hearted agreement.

He was greeted Christmas morning with Draco's loud exclamations. There was a large pile of presents at his feet, and Harry's own pile looked quite pathetic, despite his friends' generosity. A small part of Harry twinged with jealousy. He left the room, carrying his presents with him, entering an nearby empty room. He didn't want his enthusiasm tainted, and he there was a strong chance by Draco's smug attitude. Much to his delight, he got gifts from everyone who met on Friday afternoons, and he was relieved that he had them gifts in return. He had sent everyone a pocketknife, it didn't matter if they were male or female. Harry didn't have any traditions, so he had to make his own. The knife was in gratitude that they didn't believe he was the heir, it let them know Harry wouldn't forget their friendship. Since Ron had already received one, he was sent a Chudley Cannons scarf.

The second to last gift was large and square and rather lumpy. Opening it, he recognized to contain the same sort of handmade sweater that Ron had last year. He felt a flush rise in his face, to think he had almost killed Ginny. His jealousy of Draco slipped away when he slipped it on. It fit perfectly.

Opening the last present, he saw a bag, and there was another note. It read,

Harry Potter,

You have not met me, but in my own way I have met you. I have lived many years, but I recognized you for the child you are not when I visited Hogwarts. Things are changing, and I know that the path that is chosen is entwined with you. I cannot guide you, not that you would wish for it, but I can return what was always yours.

Sincerely,

_Nicolas Flamel_

Harry had read of Flamel's death in October, but he had no idea why he had left something for him. Perplexed, he opened the bag. In it were several handfuls of grey-red shimmering sand. A smell wafted up from it, something that reminded Harry of a fierce thunderstorm and cold wind. His finger's dipped into the sand, and it trailed down his fingers. Almost instantly, his eyes began to flutter down, and a half memory entered his mind.

_There were two men having dinner in a home. The first man looked unwashed, his face was smudged, and his blonde hair had flecks of mud in it. His face was young, but thin, and unremarkable. The second man was older, his hair was scraggly and white. His face had a large scar, crossing the bridge of his nose, across the eye, and through the eyebrow. He was telling his dinner companion a story of some sort, with grand gestures. He drank from his cup, and the other man took out his wand and cast a spell._

The sand swirled up from the bag.

_The first man had taken a shower and was at a table, writing quickly. Then he was talking with another man, holding a manuscript of some kind. Then there was an invitation, and a discussion with a hag missing her left hand, more writing in a grander room. And then fame and bright lights, and awards for nothing._

Harry withdrew his hand and peered at the sand. It was the power of stories.

Grasping a handful of sand he threw it in the air, where it suspended for a moment. It caught the light of the sun, gleaming small flecks of red (_Red is the color of life_). Then it settled on him, in his hair and between his fingers before vanishing.

Harry wondered what the power of stories would do to him.

* * *

Ron was grumpy when he returned from Christmas, and it took forever to Harry to drag it out of him. It wasn't until the weekend when they were alone in a classroom that he confessed.

"When we were coming back to school, Blaise told me you know who the Heir of Slytherin is. And people all over the school think it's you, when you could just tell a teacher and you could be a hero. People might get hurt, and you don't say a thing. I'm supposed to be your best friend, why didn't you at least tell me?"

Harry winced. He should have seen this coming. He opened his mouth to protest, but he caught sight of Ron's face. There was a lot of doubt there, and Harry was reminded that Ron was the youngest in six brothers, an insecure sort of person. Harry was his best friend, and that was doubly striking when they were in rival houses, but it also created conflict. He could easily imagine Blaise rubbing Ron's face that he knew something that Ron didn't. He hesitated before deciding.

"Look, Ron I didn't tell you that for a reason. But if you makes you feel any better I'll tell you who the Heir is."

Ron's eye's widened, before setting into determination. "It's Malfoy isn't it? I know he's scared of you, he doesn't say much when you are nearby. We can be heroes Harry!"

Harry shook his head. "No, you have to understand, I'm not joking about this. Not even a little." He glanced around the room, sensing no one. "It was Ginny." Seeing Ron's confused face he continued.

"I didn't notice on Halloween but you might have, she wasn't at dinner. She was by the girl's restroom. But more importantly, I saw her on a different night doing something suspicious, but she didn't see me." This part was a lie, the blue tinge was his hint, but he didn't want to admit he saw things that weren't real. Harry knew that covering up a secret with another secret was always a good idea, so he pulled out his Invisibility Cloak.

"This was my Dad's, Dumbledore returned it to me for Christmas last year, I haven't said anything because I wanted this just to be my own for a while. It works really well; I've been exploring the castle with it. I've been meaning to show you, but I've been so busy this year, and you didn't stay for the holidays. Anyway, I saw your sister, and she was walking funny, wasn't acting like herself. I thought at first she was headed for hospital wing, but then I heard something strange. The next day I went to ask her about it, that was after the first year got Petrified. She looked like she had stayed up all night. So I took her diary, hoping that maybe I was wrong, and she had written something that proved she was innocent. Only it was blank, it looked like there was nothing in it. But when I wrote in it, it wrote back."

Ron's face had slowly dawned into understanding, and now he spoke, his voice shaking.

"She wasn't at the Halloween feast, she told Percy that she was going to skip it. And she looked sick all of November, but we thought it was just stress, you know? In fact, Percy was pretty close to making her go get some Pepper-Up Potion. She got better right around the beginning of December though. Right around the time she told me you took her diary. I thought she was joking!" Ron's hand swept through his hair before continuing.

"Dad's told of loads of stories about cursed objects, people who pick up books and who can't stop reading them, things like that. 'Don't trust something if you can't see where it's brain is' it is something we heard all the time. That thing was cursed!" Pleased that he didn't have to explain anymore, Harry nodded.

"Yeah, I thought so. So I have it now, and I'm not using it. But don't you see why I can't say anything? I only told you because I know you won't say anything. I don't think Ginny even knew that she was responsible, and I can't give the diary to a teacher because then they'll ask where I got it. The teachers know I'm not the Heir because Snape gave me a detention right before the Halloween feast, remember? So I'll just hold onto it, at least I know what it is, and I'll destroy when I know how to."

"But how did Ginny get it? Mum and Dad wouldn't have given it to her."

"I don't know. Draco mentioned that his father knew something about it, which makes me think he was involved. Not to mention the warning his house elf gave me. I just don't know how he gave it to her." Ron's face turned dark.

"I know. Remember that fight that happened in Diagon Alley? You missed it, but there were so many books falling all over the place when they were fighting. It would have been easy to put that with Ginny's things." Ron blew out some breath. "So what now? We can't just let people think you're the Heir."

"Why not? It's not like it is true. And everyone who knows me doesn't think so, that's what matters. And we can't blame Malfoy, nobody actually saw anything, and all we've got is a warning from house elf. "

Ron looked doubtful. "If you say so."

They parted ways after agreeing to meet up later; Ron wanted a chance to use the Cloak himself. Harry shook his head when he left, Ron was right. If people thought Harry was the Heir when he had nothing to do with it, when he actually did something dodgy he wouldn't be able to wiggle out of it. And Lockhart was a useless Defense teacher, but he had taught Harry some things, fame buys favors, and sometimes a good story was all that was needed.

Harry planned.

It was a simple plan; it only had five steps. He just had to be patient and wait for the opportunity to arise. But Harry's plans didn't come to pass because he had not counted on two things, Ron and Hermione. Ron had informed Hermione of the situation, living out the bit of Ginny being the culprit, confident that her intelligence would come up with a solution to Harry's problem. She took the challenge with a fervor.

"You need to explore the clues that you know, and discover what caused people to get Petrified. Then we can use this to prove your innocence," she said.

Harry managed to delay their interest for a few months, but as the end of the year approached, they grew more enthusiastic. Afraid of what they would find on their own, Harry joined their research. Knowing that the Chamber was last opened fifty years ago thanks to Tom Riddle's information, Harry pulled out the student list from 1952 and 1953. Comparing them, he noticed two students noticeably absent, a third year Gryffindor named Rubeus Hagrid and a fourth year Ravenclaw named Myrtle Willoughby. Pointing this out to his friends, he was met with nearly identical exclamations.

"**I know him**!"

"I know her!"

Ron and Hermione looked at each other in surprise. Ron grinned and spoke first. "Hagrid is the man who lives in the hut outside the castle. I have tea with him sometimes. Charlie was a good friend of his, the were both in love with dragons you see."

Hermione continued less enthusiastically. "Myrtle's a ghost that haunts the girls' toilet. In fact, it's the one right next to where Mrs. Norris was found Petrified."

Ron paled and asked the question that all three of them were thinking. "You don't reckon she was killed in school do you?"

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, there's only one way to find out. Let's go ask, the worse she can do is cry." Ron and Harry looked at each other when she walked off, silently agreeing that it was a horrible prospect indeed.

Hermoine held the door open for the girl's restroom. "There's no one in here." Entering they found Myrtle easily, she was sniffling, and spoke up when she saw Ron and Harry.

"Oh, come to make fun of me have you? It's not enough that just girls are allowed, now boys come in too!" Her translucent eyes began to well with tears, and Harry hasted to speak before she started.

"We were just wondering how you died." He winced, that came out a bit harsher than he intended. Sometimes the dead were rather touchy about this sort of thing. The Bloody Baron didn't stop rattling his chains in the Astronomy Tower for a month last time Harry asked. It turns out he needn't have worried, Myrtle looked pleased.

"Ooh, no one's asked that before. It was really quite awful, it happened right here in this very toilet. I was crying because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses, and I heard a hissing noise. I came out because it sounded like a boy speaking and instead, I saw a great big pair of yellow eyes. They were right over there."

Heart fluttering in anticipation, Harry walked over to the sinks. Hermoine pointed out one in particular, "That one doesn't work." The three of them examined it, and etched onto one of the faucets was a small snake. He hissed,

"_Open_."

When the sink dropped out of sight, Hermione gasped and Ron gave a loud whoop. Harry was elated. They had found a **legend. **

"Hermione, you stay here in case anyone comes in. We'll go get Professor Dumbledore." He paused at the door, and turned around. "Myrtle, you were brilliant." She blushed but Harry didn't see it, he was exiting the door. And right in front of him was Lockhart; he had his wand out.

A new color lit in Harry's eyes, a vibrant orange fading into dullness of grey. Harry knew what was coming. Lockhart had heard Ron and went to investigate, only to find the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets. And he would do to Harry what he had done to the scarred man and the hag with a missing hand. Harry didn't know any shields he could cast, and he couldn't stop Lockhart from saying the spell, he was too far away. He could have moved, he was fast enough. But Ron was behind him. He was just emerging from the restroom, the door half blocking his view. He didn't see Lockhart, didn't know about the drawn wand.

Ron was right behind him

So Harry stood there.

_"Obliviate_"

* * *

**A/N: **I will be starting every chapter from a quote from The Sandman from now on. Each will be carefully chosen to match a subject of the chapter.

* * *


	15. Ch 14 Four Points of View

**Chapter Fourteen **

**Four Points of View**

* * *

_**It was then that Delirium noticed that she had absent-mindedly transformed into a hundred and eleven perfect, tiny multicolored fish. Each fish sang a different song.**_

From _The Kindly Ones_

* * *

Myrtle heard a noise, and a loud exclamation. Curious, she floated out to investigate, and she saw the nice boy on the ground, his eyes glassy. Standing above him was that horrid teacher, the one who had told he she should have, "At least tried to die pretty." Enraged she started to shriek.

"MURDER! Murder in the bathroom!" She doubted it was true, but it would bring people around as quickly as possible, and right now, Myrtle didn't want to be alone. The nice boy needed help.

Soon enough an entire troupe of teacher's were there, there was shouting, and noise.

People were asking for her account, she had never had this much attention before, not even when she was alive. Most people avoided her toilet because she spent her time weeping, but it was one of the last things she had done before she saw The Eyes. She couldn't really stop crying, it was who she was.

When she had died, she had haunted Olive Hornby for a while, but then the girl had got a restraining order, so she came back to the toilet. By then most of the students had not known her when she was alive, and did not know that she had died just a few years before. They didn't know that her death was covered up; they thought she was just an annoying little ghost. And finding out that they didn't care, not one bit, that she had died less than ten years ago in that very room hurt. So her eyes welled with tears, and she started to cry. No one asked what was wrong, they just fled the room when it started to flood. Not even Peeves would come around the room, and realizing this, Myrtle would cry some more. Soon she heard the rumors.

"Don't go in there, it's haunted with the ghost of Moaning Myrtle." She was always miserable when she heard that nickname, because she was dead, and a ghost, and static. Because when she was eleven and alive; Olive had teased her about her nose; and when she started to cry, Olive gave her the nickname of 'Weeping Willoughby'.

Ghosts don't change.

The brown-haired girl was crying and giving an account to one of the Professors. Myrtle sympathized, but she for once she didn't feel like crying. She was too worried.

So, she tried her best to describe how polite the boy was (she learned his name was Harry), and no, she had never seen him before today. They took him away to the hospital wing, his body floating gently, and that horrible teacher was bound in ropes. There was quite a bit of yelling, and Myrtle was satisfied that the that horrible man looked terrified. Then Dumbledore went down to the tunnel Harry made carrying some roosters. Myrtle thought it was odd, but then again, he had been her teacher when she was still alive, he was bound to have lost some of his mind in his old age.

He emerged later, and there was a grim look of satisfaction on his face, but she could see the sadness in his eyes.

Her toilet became quite popular then, and it would have annoyed her, except that the visitors brought gossip. She learned that Harry had been hit with a memory charm. She worried about him quite a bit, and when the students were in class and she was alone, she would think about him. And the four words he said would float in her mind.

"_Myrtle, you were brilliant."_

And she was. She hadn't thought about it in years, but she had been sorted into Ravenclaw. Olive had been jealous because she wasn't as smart, and always said things like that to fluster her in class. Myrtle wasn't very popular, but she hadn't been lonely. She had been happy as a student. She **was** brilliant.

Because ghosts don't change.

When she heard that many students had suspected him in the year, Myrtle told everyone that came in that the only people who had been in her restroom this year had been a girl. And she said that Harry was very nice, and how **dare** they think he would ever attack people. And when she said this, there wasn't a quiver in her voice, or a tear in her eye.

And they believed.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The wizarding world was in an uproar. Although no one knew quite how, word had leaked out to the press that Harry Potter had been Obliviated. The community loved Gilderoy Lockhart, but he had attacked a child. And Harry Potter was on a pedestal that Lockhart would never be able to reach. Instantly, every accomplishment he had written was under suspicion, and The Daily Prophet proposed a monetary award for any who could find the real people behind the stories. The proof that was needed was a confirmation from an accredited Ministry worker that a memory charm had been preformed.

Within eight days, every "true Lockhart" had been found. Friends close to them mentioned that after Lockhart had visited they had acted oddly. They would frequently forget things, and never telling the story of dangers they had faced again. These people looked like they had done great acts, they bore the marks of battle, and admitted they couldn't quite remember how they got their injuries. Lockhart was in disgrace, and sentenced to Azkaban for the improper use of memory charms within the week.

And the Wizarding World held its breath for the latest news of Harry Potter.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The Healers of St. Mungo's were afraid of what they would find. The memory charm had been well cast, how much had he lost?

Harry woke up on the second day, but said nothing. Dumbledore came in, bringing in a few pictures of his parents, hoping it would help. His eyes became less glassy, and more focused on the third day. They kept him at Hogwarts, and on the fourth day they allowed visitors in, provided they had permission from a teacher. The Healer's hoped that familiar faces would bring back some of Harry's memories. They were surprised to see people from all houses come in, putting on a brave face, not showing how much Harry's blank gaze frightened them.

The fifth day, a single tear dripped down his face.

On the sixth day two boys came in, red headed twins. They didn't say much, instead put on a dramatic presentation of a sword fight, using rubber chickens. When they were finished, they gave a short bow, and Harry raised his arm for one of the chickens. The Healers let him keep it, so far it was the only reaction they had received.

On the seventh day, Harry said three nonsensical sentences, and all of the Healers worried. Then he burst into hysterics, and they had to give him a potion to calm down his laughter.

It appeared that he would have to be sent to the long-term ward of St. Mungo's.

One the eighth day, Healer Hawthorne went to wash her hands. When she entered the room again, Harry's bed was empty. Panicked, she went down to the Great Hall to inform the Headmaster, and she saw a small swarm of students around the Slytherin table. Harry was at the center of it, eating a piece of toast, laughing at something that another boy had said. He caught sight of her, and she saw him raise his glass to her mouthing, "Thank you." Astonished, she wobbled over to the table where Dumbledore sat; taking the seat he conjured next to him.

"I must admit, Healer Hawthorne, I was surprised that you cleared him to come to the Great Hall this morning. I would have thought that you would have at least kept him the rest of the morning." Healer Hawthorne said nothing; dimly registering the boy had lied before helping herself to a cup of strong coffee.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry had forgotten something.

And

it was a very

important something.

It pounded in his brain, it

itched in his blood, and worse

yet, everything was still tinted with

that bright orange color. He couldn't remember

what it was though, the thoughts were like gazelles,

and maybe if his was still and quiet, he could capture

them like a snake. Or a lion, maybe a lion. People came in

and asked him all sorts of questions, but he didn't pay attention.

Whatever he forgot was important, far more important. He was

getting tired on the fifth day, the orange color hurt his eyes,

and in his frustration a tear leaked out. He was just very

tired. He wished the Healers would try to break the

memory charm, but they claimed that it would ruin

his mind if they did. But they didn't know.

He was Harry James Potter. Just Harry

and a hundred or so glittering,

floating, singing, beautiful

fish. Harry Potter.

He was not

Humpty Dumpty.

Harry Potter. H. P. Not H. D.

But magic was magic, and Harry had plenty of magic

So even though there were no king's horses, and there were no king's men.

Harry could pull himself together again.

On the sixth day, two boys came in and did some sort of weird dance, and Harry actually sort of paid attention to them. He thought it was odd that someone would try to dance with chickens, even stranger that they couldn't even pick real ones. There was a tease of a thought then, so close to him. It had something to do with the rubber chickens. He reached for one, and they let him keep it.

On the seventh day, he squeezed the chicken, it squeaked, and Harry snickered.

"I am not a chicken," he said. The Healer looked up at him in surprise.

"No, you are not. You were very brave, Mr. Potter, looking for the Chamber of Secrets so no one else would get hurt." Harry gave a lazy smile, that's not what he meant at all.

"I am not a rubber chicken. I'm a rubber duck."

The look of stricken concern on her face was funny, and this time he didn't even try to stop his laughter.

On the eighth day, he felt like getting out of bed. He opened his eyes, and could see that everything had returned back to it's normal color. The glittering fish had gone away. He knew he was still missing those memories, but he decided that he had quite enough brooding. In fact, he felt like having breakfast in the Great Hall. But also believed that the Healer wouldn't let him. So he waited for her to leave, and he slipped on the set of robes next to his bed. He walked up to a mirror, asked a question and unsurprisingly, the person in the mirror nodded back. And when Dumbledore asked if he was supposed to be downstairs, he grinned.

"I got permission, Professor Dumbledore." Then he walked away, failing to mention that he got consent from himself. Because there are ways around everything, and Harry knew that he would get his memories back eventually.

The last weeks of school passed uneventfully, the Petrified student was cured, and he confirmed he had seen a giant snake. Professor Dumbledore had confirmed the death of the basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets. An entire team of Aurors came, and Dumbledore asked Harry allow them to explore the passage properly. Everyone agreed that it would be too dangerous to keep around, even for research. Venom one thousand years old could kill someone in less than thirty seconds, it would not do any good to study it. Nothing else was found, and a crowd of fifty surrounded the corpse in order to vanish the entire snake.

Harry did not take his exams. His mind was a jumbled mess. Frequently, Harry would slip into another one of the languages he knew without even realizing it. Most people were amazed that he talk, the Healers called it a miracle, Harry called it frustration. He could follow along with most of the classes, Lockhart had not taken that knowledge from him at least. But writing was difficult, sometime the letters would just fall out of his head. Other times he would diligently write notes in class, only to find that he had actually written down the story of Cinderella. And his magic skills had gone backwards, and once again Harry found himself struggling to Transfigure his toothpick.

Then the year ended and Harry packed his trunk. He placed the pictures of his parents in his copy of _A History of Magic_ so they wouldn't wrinkle. He would buy a notebook for them when he got to the Muggle world. While sorting through some of the things, he found something curious, an elegant drawstring bag. Thinking that he had some sort of treasure in there, he was disappointed to find only sand. Frustrated with his lack of knowledge (why would he keep a bag of sand?) he tossed it in the bottom of his trunk.

The next day he left Hogwarts, somewhat relieved to go to Privet Drive. And least he knew what to expect there.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Dream of the Endless had been conquered.

He didn't know whether to be furious or pleased. Nicolas Flamel had died, and then Harry Potter had managed to circumvent his plans. The Philosopher's Stone was created by Dream, it had his power in it. It was to return to sand when Nicolas died, and float back to The Dreaming automatically. But Nicolas had placed it in a bag and enchanted it so it was hidden. Dream was not worried when Nicolas died and the sand did not return to him, not everyone could use the sand. They would have to be given the ability to use it beforehand by Dream. But Flamel had enchanted the bag to land in Harry's hands.

And Dream had given Harry the ability to use the sand when he was one, on that Halloween night.

He was uncertain how Flamel had recognized Harry as having the ability. But Dream could do very little to manipulate the boy now, he had given him some of his own power.

Harry could have used it on anyone. He could have stolen secrets from the greatest of wizards, he could shaped reality as he saw fit, perhaps manipulate time and space.

But Harry had tossed the sand on himself, and even though Harry was uncertain of how to use it, the sand was already bending to his will. Harry had wanted revenge on Lockhart for stealing the stories of other people, and for taking his memories. And despite the teacher's, Healer's and Ministry's best efforts, the public found out about the attack. It was a rumor started by both no one and everyone. Lockhart lost the stories and Harry gained another chapter in the public eye.

And he did precisely what Dream wanted all along.

Harry Potter was going to be a legend, but it was going to be one of his own making.

* * *

**A/N**: Book Two, Part one Complete!

* * *


	16. Part Two Intro

**Part Two:**

**The Middle of Middle **

Summary: Cunning, Resourceful, Powerful and Ambitious, Harry has little trouble finding success. But not even that can prevent the pages of Destiny from turning.

* * *

"It means that we're just dolls. We don't have a clue what's really going down, we just kid ourselves that we're in control of our lives while a paper's thickness away things that would drive us mad if we thought about them for too long play with us, and move us around from room to room, and put us away at night when they're tired, or bored."

From Rose Walker's diary in _The Doll House_

* * *

Beware Reader, for this book reveals the truth of The Endless. Power: they have to spare. Mercy: they do not, for mercy belongs to people. The Endless are not people, they are Themselves, and that is all. Show too much interest in them and they will contact you. It is possible that they will humor you, and you may gain a favor from them. The best you can hope for is an understanding.

Do **not** attempt to control them.

Introduction from _Power of Dreams_ by Astoria Teller, Seer, yr.1231

* * *

"The Endless? The Endless are merely patterns. The Endless are ideas. The Endless are wave functions. The Endless are repeating motifs. The Endless are echoes of darkness, and nothing more. We have no right to play with their lives, to order their dreams and their desires."

Destruction in _Brief Lives_


	17. Ch 15 The Color Red Means Holes in Head

**Chapter Fifteen**

**The Color Red Means Holes in Head**

Despair had never been in love before, but there was one time when she was close. This was long ago, before it was decreed that the Endless could not fall in love with mortals.

There was a wizard who had more power than Merlin, but he was also more arrogant. He had a goal, to summon all of the sadness and misery in the world and contain it.

What he did not understand was that unhappiness is the force that makes joy all the more sweet.

And so the wizard studied, theorized, and made preparations for years. The small village in which he lived saw him very little, and some of the people had begun to believe that his brilliance had shifted into madness. After some time, the wizard finished and he took certain objects off to a secluded marsh in the outskirts of the village. There he drew symbols in the ground, lit candles made from salt of tears, and donned a grey cloak in which he lined with runes, to help contain the power he would summon. The ritual was short, and the wizard believed himself successful when he saw Despair appear.

She had never been summoned before, and a feeling arose in her belly that was familiar but unknown. A memory of something floated to her mind, perhaps being wanted and adored; this caught her by surprise and so she looked at the wizard. Despair's realm is a cold place, with mist low on the ground that hides the pet rats she keeps. Hanging everywhere are mirrors, which display each person in a perfect image of misery and hopelessness.

For the most part, Despair is satisfied, and people are shielded from her, never in direct contact.

But the wizard did not have this protection when he locked eyes with Despair; he forgot joy and became absence and loneliness. His soul tried to retreat but was unable, the powerful magic was reigned in by the grey cloak he wore. Trapped, the wizard stayed there for weeks, the mists from the marshes sputtering out the candles, the power deterring anyone from approaching.

Despite his function, Destruction had a kind nature, and he pitied the man trapped by his own skill and arrogance. So he requested for Despair to let him go. But Despair does not let go easily, and refused. Destruction did the only thing that was in his power, he obliterated the soul, ending the wizard's anguish. The spell broke, but by this time the body had become imbued with a magic of its own.

Free from its constraints, the body headed towards the village, feeding off the misery of its inhabitants, searching in vain for the soul that once belonged to it. By the end of the day, the village was filled with shells of people, slack with the emptiness of a final kiss. A few months from then, wizards to the south would be working on a new type of spell in order to destroy the of magical beings known as dementors, never realizing that they were once people.

It was the first time that Destruction questioned his role, it would take a few more centuries to leave them.

There once was a wizard who had more power than Merlin.

He was also the most forgotten.

O

Harry was at Privet Drive, and he was bored out of his mind. He had spent most of the month doing very little. He had already finished a great deal of his homework, and the Dursley's rarely asked him to do things around the house since they found out he went to Hogwarts. What's more, he couldn't practice his magic, which was the thing that he really needed to do. There were still large gaps in his memory, and made him feel as if he had lost a large part of himself. And he had no one to talk to either, most people his age crossed the street when they saw him coming, and parents were always giving him narrow eyed looks. Tomorrow was his birthday, and he was grateful that he would be leaving for London in two day's time.

He awoke early, the next day like he always did, and exited the house, ready for his morning run. Harry found that taking the run early in the morning would make his less restless. It was a bright sort of day, and Harry hoped that _something_ would happen, the blandness of Privet Drive made him feel unsettled.

When he was finished, there was an owl perched on the mailbox. Tossing a glance up and down the street, (Uncle Vernon would throw a fit if he thought the neighbors saw it) he reached for the envelope. It was his Hogwarts letter. In it he found a permission slip to allow him to visit Hogsmeade, the village just outside the school's walls. Entering the house, he saw the Dursley's sitting at the kitchen table. Deciding to get it out of the way, he entered. They were all looking at the television screen, and on it was the hot line number for a man with dark, tangled hair, and escapee of a prison. He looked crazed and haunted. Harry shivered.

"I need you to sign this. It's a permission slip to a village near the school" waving the sheet in front of his Uncle's face. He turned his face towards Harry, blotched purple with anger. He was about to speak, but Harry wouldn't let him.

"You could not sign it, but then I'll just punish you by staying here in August, maybe I'll even show up during the holidays too. And I have friends. I'll ask them to send me letters. Lots of letters. And the neighbors will talk about how _strange_ Number Four Privet Drive is when a cloud of owls surrounds it. It's how mail is delivered, for people like me. _Abnormally_. Or you could just be sensible, make both of us happy, and sign it."

Uncle Vernon stood up, towering over Harry. He stalked out of the room, only to return with a pen in his hand. He leaned over, and was about to sign, and paused.

"I'll sign it. But you have to promise something. No mention of your funny business when Marge gets here."

"I leave tomorrow. She won't even have to see me."

"I'm going to pick her up today from the station. I told her you attend St. Brutus' School for Incurably Criminal Boys." Harry gaped at his Uncle; it explained why everyone in the neighborhood avoided him. The Dursley's gave him Aunt Marge as a birthday present, not even a warning. He sighed.

"Fine. I'll play along. Make certain that you tell her that the school picks up horrible cases like me a month early. For..er.. extra discipline. I'll already be gone when she wakes up tomorrow."

Uncle Vernon gave a strange smile, and signed the slip with a flourish that would have made Lockhart jealous.

Aunt Marge had said some particularly horrid things about Harry's parents, and she was really quite fortunate that Harry knew this was the only night he would have to see her, and maybe the last night of his life. His only joy came out of saying some horrible things he had done, like stealing, which caused Marge to talk quite loudly of what a waste he was. Vernon scowled at him, while Aunt Petunia spent the night casting glances out the windows, as if she was expecting the neighbors pressed against them. Pity she never realized he telling the truth.

He arrived at the Leaky Cauldron the next morning just as some people were arriving for breakfast. Tom handed a key to him, and Harry went to drop off his things. There was a small pile of mail sitting there from his friends; a few of them had enclosed gifts for his birthday. The one from Ron looked a bit lumpy, so he opened that one first. Inside there was an article about the Weasleys winning a sweepstakes, small ball, it was a Sneakoscope.

He read the note from Ron sullenly; he was hoping that Mrs. Weasley would invite him to the Burrow again, but it appeared they were all in Egypt. Going through the rest of the things, he found a few books, some candies, cards, and a mood stone from the Patil twins, and Neville enclosed a Remembrall. Harry scowled when it turned red. He angrily tossed it onto the bed and headed downstairs.

He spent the most of August watching people come in and out, hearing their gossip. He learned that the man on the television was a wizard named Sirius Black, and was the only man to escape the wizarding prison Azkaban. Knowing this could only be trouble for him, he took out a subscription to The Daily Prophet. After reading some of the news, hearing some of the gossip, he hoped that Black would try to find him.

He also bought his school things, explored the stores, finding out where the best deals were, and ate ice cream at Florean Fortesque's Parlor reading his birthday presents. Hermione had sent a copy of French wizarding magic, and he entertained the idea of visiting there next year. His French was probably getting rusty by now.

The last days of August that he began to see some of his friends, helping them pick out where the school books were located in Flourish and Blotts, leaving plenty of time for them to gaze over the Firebolt Broomstick. Harry had enquired the price one of the first days there, wondering how much he would have to save to get one. But even with the large pile of gold in his vault, it was too much. He could buy it, but chances are he wouldn't be able to go to Hogwarts for the last three years either. He would have bought a Nimbus 2001, but Draco had one, and that just wasn't good enough for Harry.

He finally met Ron and Hermione on the last day of August, bickering over something. Sometimes he wondered how many of his friends would have been friends if he hadn't gotten involved. It turned out that Hermione had bought a cat, which didn't like Scabbers. Bemused, Harry sat in silence, and let their argument wash over him in the hot August sun.

All of the Weasley's were staying at the Leaky Cauldron, and Harry took great delight in eating dinner with them. Fred and George told how they tried to shut Percy in a pyramid, a sort of morbid humor that Harry preferred. Catching Percy's annoyance, he made certain to congratulate him on becoming Head Boy, the last thing he needed was more trouble. Ginny was quiet for most of dinner, giving him a few frightened glances. Harry was grateful no one noticed. They headed upstairs to pack, and Harry lounged in the chair for a few more minutes, chatting with Tom, and helping him move the tables back. Then he said goodnight, scooped up Ron's forgotten rat tonic, and headed upstairs.

They arrived early at the train station, and dropped off their things in an empty compartment near the end and went to say goodbye. Mr. Weasley pulled Harry over, he looked nervous.

"Harry, you need to promise me that you won't try to chase down Sirius Black. No matter what you hear. I know that you wouldn't do that, but it still needs to be said."

"You mean because he was the man that betrayed my parents to Voldemort." Mr. Weasley flinched, and Harry saw small beads of sweat break out on his forehead.

"Your not supposed to know that Harry, could you keep that down. How did you find out?" Harry snorted.

"You mean besides in the dozens of books my name's in and the article's The Daily Prophet printed?" The Hogwarts train begain to whistle and everyone rushed onboard.

"I can promise you I won't go looking for Sirius Black. Bye, Mr. Weasley." He gave a small wave to Mrs, Weasley, and boarded the train.

_Besides_, he thought, _Black will look for me anyway._

Harry headed with the others towards the back of the train. The last compartment had a man in it, and Hermione wisely pointed out the man's name stitched on his suitcase. Thinking it odd that he would take the train, the three took the next compartment. It was as if they started a trend though, as most of the third years ended up nearby. And soon it was hard to say who was sharing a compartment with whom as they kept on switching compartments. They all speculated on the teacher, wondering what good he would be.

"Anyone would be better than Lockhart," Dean pointed out.

"How are you Harry?" Padma asked. Harry shrugged.

"I'm better now, I don't think classes will be much of a problem now, but I know there are some things missing in my head still, I just don't know what. Neville sent me a Remembrall and it turned red." He went to his trunk looking for it.

"See? Oh, wait… no, that's not it."

"What's that then?" asked Terry.

"It's a Sneakoscope, it's supposed to detect someone untrustworthy" responded Harry.

"You know," Blaise's forehead was creased in thought. "Since Lupin's asleep you should go test him. Even if he catches you, at least you'll have a good response. Our Defense teachers have been evil the last two times," Harry made a face.

Seeing the expectant looks on his friends' faces, he knew he didn't have a choice. So he got up and went to the door. A few of them had poked their heads out to see the outcome. Opening the door Harry went in. The lack of reaction was somewhat disappointing. Shrugging he left the room, Lupin still asleep.

"Nothing. I hope its not broken." Harry responded. "Let me go ask Ron about it." He headed next door, thumping the door to Lupin's compartment shut. He hadn't even made it three steps when the Sneakoskope started whistling.

"Aha!" cried Blaise. "I knew it. I knew you shouldn't trust him Harry! Never trust a Gryffindor!" Ron, hearing this exclamation gave Blaise a rude gesture.

"Do you know how to stop it? It's really irritating." Parvati was giving the Sneakoscope an annoyed look, as if hoping that it would shame itself into silence.

"I don't know of anyway to make it shut up. It was working the day I bought it, and it stopped right after Bill noticed the beetles in his soup." Ron admitted sheepishly.

"What's the whole good of having something that warns you of an enemy of the thing announces that you're nearby?" Seamus complained. He was holding his ears to his head. Hermione waved over to Harry.

"If we can't make it stop, then maybe we can make it alert you in different ways." She said. "I think I know of a few spells that would work." Terry's walked over as well.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you are talking about Hermione." The two of them pointed their wands and poked at the object. It gave a small shudder, and then got louder. All the third years gave a loud groan.

"Put it away!" roared Ernie. Hermione, Terry, Michael Corner, Padma Patil, and Su Li closed the door to the compartment, and the noise muted. They were quite determined to get the Sneakoscope to work. Shrugging, Harry sat next to Justin and Dean. Half an hour later they emerged, looking quite proud of themselves.

"We did it!" Micheal said, holding out Harry's present in his hand were it shook silently, lights flashing. "Put it in your pocket, and no one will know but you."

"Yeah, but that doesn't explain why it set off in the first place." Pointed out Blaise. They all looked at each other, trying to figure out the puzzle when they felt the train slow.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Then the train fell into darkness and it grew cold. Harry shivered.

They could see a cloaked figure in the hallway gliding to the back of the train. Everyone looked pale, and he could see Neville shaking in his seat. Harry was feeling good either, he could barely keep his mind straight, and he felt a pressure in his head, like water had been poured in his ears. And then a bright light appeared and warmth filled the train once more, and the dementor disappeared.

Lupin was standing there with his wand stretched out.

"Is everyone alright?" he asked. Harry was going to respond, but the words caught in his throat, he had just missed something incredibly important.

"Yeah, I guess. I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been here." Dean said shakily.

"Yes, it is quite fortunate. You," Lupin said looking at the third years huddled together, "Aren't a particularly quite group. You were making quite a bit of noise and I woke up. It worked out for the best though."

"What was that?" Ron asked.

"That was a dementor, one of the guards from Azkaban. Looking for Sirius Black, I presume. Excuse me, but I need to check the rest of the train." With that he left them.

Harry sat back in the nearest seat, while the rest of them talked. It was Hannah who noticed his silence and asked about it.

"When the dementors came, I was close. I almost remembered. But now…" Harry looked out the window. "I lost myself again."


	18. Ch 16 An Enemy from Lack of Memory

**Chapter Sixteen**

**An Enemy from Lack of Memory**

* * *

_**"When you dream, sometimes you remember. When you wake, you always forget."**_

Dream, in _Brief Lives_

* * *

Harry's classes wasted no time getting down to business. He was starting two new classes in his third year, Care of Magical Creatures and Arithmacy. He was a bit nervous about Arithmacy, he had signed up for the class before Lockhart attacked him. Hermione was quite excited about the class, but upon receiving some of the notes, Harry groaned. Its seemed like a lot of work. Arithmacy studied the role of numbers in Magic, and in later years, the creation of spells. He hadn't forgotten about the diary hidden in the Owlery, and he figured that lacking a spell on how to destroy it, he could create it. He felt a bit out of depth though, most of the people who signed up were at the top of the class. He turned to Hermione and told her that he wished he had taken Divination instead. She replied, "The class seems a bit wooly to me. We try to predict the future with some tea leaves, and the Professor seems a bit dramatic to me." she sniffed.

"But it's at the same time as Divination, you wouldn't know that!" Michael exclaimed, and Harry noticed that she pointedly ignored him.

Professor McGonagall started out that year by teaching everyone about Animagi, showing everyone her own transformation. Harry was immediately entranced and raised his hand.

"How long would it take to learn to do that, Professor?" He was still staring at the spot on her desk where she had turned into a cat. He loved unconventional magic.

"Years, Potter. One had to be highly skilled in the art of Transfiguration, not to mention to have someone reliable in order to change the wizard if they get stuck mid-transformation."

Hearing her stern unspoken warning, Harry said no more. He was still stuck reviewing first year material after all.

Harry's other new class was with Ron, and he was looking forward to having a class that involved a little bit less bookwork. The teacher was Hagrid, a large man with a bushy beard, who Harry vaguely recalled as the one Riddle framed. He standing next to a pen filled with hippogriffs and he looked rather excited to be teaching his first class. Harry thought he was rather nice, if not a bit dim, and could easily see why Ron had tea with him.

Hagrid did not directly approach him for conversation, but gave him glances throughout the class. It was a bit annoying and Harry a great deal of time looking at the forbidden forest just to spite him. But the instructions the man gave on how to handle with hippogriffs were easy, and in very little time Hagrid was off showing other students how to do it while Harry was petting the one in front of him. It was then that Harry saw something strange, as if a shadow had fallen in his eyes. He took off his glasses to rub at them, and he heard a screeching noise. Hastily shoving them back on, he saw Draco on the ground, bleeding from some large cuts. Hagrid rushed over to him, holding back the hippogriff before scooping Draco up and taking him to the hospital wing.

Pansy Parkinson was enraged. "That stupid oaf, Draco was hurt, he's such an incompetent teacher!" Everyone knew of Pansy's little crush towards Draco, Harry thought it was quite sickening.

"Oh yeah?" Ron called, his ears bright red, and he looked ready to defend his friend. Harry stamped on his foot, it would do no good to start a fight out here, and the hippogriffs could get out of control.

"Maybe we should just put the hippogriffs back before someone else gets hurt, hmm?" he suggested. He put his in the pen, and everyone else followed. It was nearly time for class to be over anyway, so Harry and the other's headed back to the castle.

"If Malfoy wasn't such an idiot, then he wouldn't have gotten hurt. Hagrid clearly told everyone that you shouldn't insult hippogriffs and he did it anyway," Ron grumbled.

Hermione was on the other side of Harry, and she looked worried. "Poor Hagrid, I hope he doesn't get in trouble for this. Malfoy's father will have something to say about it."

It was two days later that Harry saw Draco again with his arm in a sling. He was sitting by the fire of the Common Room, comfortable stretched out in a chair. There was a small group of people around him from various years, and he seemed to be eating up the attention. Daphne was among the crowd; she looked unimpressed. Harry walked over to her to see what the fuss was. He felt something strange in his robe pocket, the Sneakoskope had wriggled.

"My father isn't very pleased about the whole incident. He says he's going to do his best to get him sacked. He's a moronic oaf and I heard he didn't even finish his schooling. If not, we'll get the hippogriff disposed of," Draco waved his hand in the air nonchalantly, "The _thing_ is clearly dangerous."

"You disobeyed the instructions of the teacher, it's not a surprise that you got hurt." Harry said quietly. Draco looked up challengingly, wondering who would dare interrupt. He gave a sniff when he saw Harry.

"Oh, it's you." Harry hid his surprise; Draco had never treated Harry as if he was irrelevant before. "Don't you have a toothpick to transfigure?" He gave a condescending smile to Harry amongst the chortles of Vincent and Pansy's tittering.

"What**ev**er. It's clear you think the teacher is a moron, but if you can't even follow his directions, what does that make you?" Harry retorted before walking away with Daphne at his back. He sat in a chair on the other side of the room, where Blaise was working on a History of Magic essay.

"Since when did Draco become important? My Sneakoscope actually warned me about him!" Harry groused. Daphne elegantly perched herself on a table to keep an eye on the crowd by the fire.

"Well, Harry, you were injured. That changed everything. Before he was certain you were the Heir of Slytherin, but then you had to prove that rumor false. When people learned about that, Draco went around telling people it was obvious that you weren't the Heir since you are only a half-blood." Blaise had stopped writing his essay to continue.

"Not to mention his father is on the Board of Governors. That puts him in charge of running the school. Add that to his position as Seeker on the Quidditch Team with top of the line brooms and he's pretty popular." Daphne nodded.

"You, on the other hand, have a name, shaky magic skills, and a memory disability. No one knows why you're a Parselmouth, but you don't do anything with it. And most people don't know how good you are on a broom. People like appearances, little wonder why he feels like you aren't much of a challenge." Harry frowned before throwing his hands up in the air.

"Fine, continue to make sense," he said, before pulling out his own homework to complete.

The next day was Defense class in which Professor Lupin had taught about boggarts. The school was already talking about him, and Harry had heard from Ron what had happened in their class. Harry was so enthralled that he forgot to take notes. He could easily see why Lupin, despite his shabby appearance, had become beloved. The only people who had anything to say about it were people like Draco, who based so much on their life on shallow, material things. It would have been a practical lesson, but due to Draco's injury Lupin had decided it would be best just to talk about it instead. Blaise, Harry and Daphne who were already feeling a bit resentful, had found their moods sour even more. Harry was keen to see what his would look like, he had no idea what he was frightened of, it had been a long time since he was scared of anything.

The week ended and the first Friday arrived. Harry was getting out of Herbology, which meant he had to wash off before he could meet with the others. The three Slytherins arrived and everyone had pulled their chairs into a circle. Harry flopped into his seat with the grace of a drunken monkey and closed his eyes. There was silence and he heard a cough. Popping his eyes open, he looked at the expectant faces of his friends.

"What?" he asked, annoyed at their eager faces. They looked at each other before Seamus spoke up.

"Last year we killed Lockhart. What are we going to do this year?" he face was eager, expecting a brilliant suggestion from Harry. He was disappointed.

"I don't know, I didn't really think that this would be a theme thing, you know? So if anyone has anything…" Harry waved his hand, opening the floor to his friends. Much to people's surprise, it was Neville that spoke up.

"I have a suggestion. We don't have to do it, but I thought with all of the news, but I sort of got the idea from the boggart." There were some cheers from that sentence, everyone still was happy about Snape in a dress. Neville's face turned a bit pink before he continued. "The best way to fight fear is with laughter, so how about we talk about Sirius Black."

"Way's to kill Sirius Black, it could work." Justin asked solemnly. Harry struggle with his smile, Justin had become so corrupt since last Christmas.

"Better yet, no one knows how he got out of Azkaban! We should come up with some ideas, maybe send them to the Ministry" Blaise suggested with a mischievous smile. Harry's eyebrows perked up.

"Ooh, I like that, I like that a lot." Harry smiled at them, and the all smiled back. This year's theme was chosen. They split up into their groups then and Harry headed off to talk to Su Li, she was his partner in Arithmacy and there was a tricky passage in last night's reading that he wanted to understand. They were deep in conversation when they heard a large groan.

"Some people are trying to concentrate, so don't start that again Terry!" Su called out, before turning to Harry. "To get into Ravenclaw Tower, you have to answer a question, and if you get it wrong, the door stays locked and you have to wait for someone to let you in. Terry got a riddle book over the summer so he wouldn't get locked out. He's been asking people questions left and right, claiming to have become some sort of riddle master over the summer. It's a bit ridiculous, but that's Terry."

"Well I have one I know that you won't be able to solve." Hermione had risen from her seat and held out her hand. "So will you take my challenge?" Terry stood up and shook her hand.

"The riddle master does not back down. What is your question?"

"I dig out tiny caves, and store gold and silver in them. I also build bridges of silver and make crowns of gold. They are the smallest you could imagine. People are afraid to let me help them. Who am I?"

There was a smile on Hermione's face that looked a bit malicious, and Harry felt out of his depth here. It was nearing dinnertime now, but Terry had not relented. Dean suddenly let out a laugh.

"Very clever Hermione! I'll be surprised if he gets it."

"Give me the week, if I can't figure it out by the next meeting I'll forfeit." Terry says this grudgingly. Hermione shook her head.

"No, we didn't agree to that. You lose. The answer is… a dentist!"

"Her parents are dentists, it should have been obvious," Justin cried as they walked to dinner.

* * *

Lupin brought in the boggart a few weeks later. The Slytherin class murmured with anticipation, but just as Lupin was about to open briefcase where it sat, there was a knock on the door, it was a sixth year Hufflepuff.

"Harry Potter is to report to the Hospital Wing, the Healer is here to do his exam." Harry frowned, he was supposed to have a check-up to see how the Memory Charm was affecting him. He wished the Healer had come during History of Magic, he had been looking forward to this class for a while. Lupin nodded.

"Come find me in my office early next week Harry, and I'll let you try the boggart then." It was a small consolation to Harry, he was rather looking forward to seeing what Draco was afraid of, and he unhappily made his way up to see the Healer.

The exam revealed that Lockhart's Charm was still holding fast, and that it was unlikely that Harry would ever recover the memories that he had lost. He had been having some dreams lately, and when he woke up he knew the dreams were part of some continuous series, like a television show. He never could remember them when he woke up, but he assumed they were his memories just floating beneath his consciousness. The news they were not was disappointing to Harry, and he ate his dinner in a dour mood. Blaise and Daphne wisely kept their mouth shut about the ordeal, instead reminding Harry that the first Hogsmeade visit was a few days. As he listened to them talk about Honeydukes, Harry felt his unhappiness fade away.

He still had the future after all.


	19. Ch 17 Infection and Reflection

**Chapter Seventeen**

**Infection and Reflection**

* * *

_**Imagine** that you woke in the night and rose, and seemed to see before you another person whom you slowly perceived to be yourself. Someone had entered in the night and placed a mirror in your sleeping place, made from a black metal. You had been frightened only of your reflection. But then the reflection slowly raised one hand, while your own stayed still...A dark mirror..._

Dream on nightmares in _The Kindly Ones_

* * *

The first Hogsmeade visit of the year was scheduled on Halloween, and the third year class buzzed with excitement. Most of the school went to the village that day, and when they did they had to pass through to gates, where the dementors stood guard. Lupin had informed everyone that chocolate helped stave off some of the cold, so the first thing Harry did was go to Honeydukes. He looked at the blood pops and pepper imps. He found an entire barrel of Bertie Botts Everyflavor Beans and ordered a giant bag of them and a giant block of chocolate.

Blaise was waiting for him outside, having visited the Owl Office to deliver a letter to his mother who was on holiday in India. They headed over to the Three Broomsticks, but the pub was packed, and Harry found himself pausing to enter. Blaise ran into him.

"What did you stop for?"

"I don't know, I think I'll just head back to Hogwarts. I don't feel comfortable right now," he said. Harry didn't really like crowds to begin with and since his attack he had felt vulnerable.

"Fine, I guess I'll go up with you, I've been to Hogsmeade plenty of times before anyway."

They headed through the gates, shivering as they passed the guards. The walked over to a section of the lake that was next to the forbidden forest, there was a large rock they could lean against. They were about there for a ten minutes when they heard something shuffling their direction. Blaise and Harry looked over, and emerging from the woods was a large black dog.

Harry laughed. "Blaise, look. It's a Grim! Good thing Parvati and Lavender aren't here. They would have a fit if they saw it. Come here dog, want an Every Flavor Bean? They are great and disgusting." Harry shook the bag in his hand, causing the beans to give a satisfying rattle.

"I don't know why you bought so many of them anyway, you don't even like them that much"

"They're a gift." The dog had sat next to Harry and dug his nose against Harry's chest when he scratched behind its ears. His tie would have to be washed, as there was a large smear of something wet on it.

"But most of the people you know were at Hogsmeade too." Those made Harry pause, he couldn't remember whom they were for. Unnerved, he continued to pet the dog, which began to thump its tail against the ground.

"Whatever. Maybe I'll give them to Lupin or something, he looks like he could use something to eat." Harry stopped petting the dog, and it grew still, cocking its head his direction. Harry thought it looked an awful lot like a person, and wished he had some food to give it besides dodgy candy. Blaise gave Harry a smirk.

"There's only room for one Draco Malfoy in Slytherin, keep talking like that and people might confuse the two of you."

Harry groaned, settling himself comfortably against the ground and the dog curled itself against his side. "Don't compare me to Draco, he bellyaches to much."

"You just say that because Snape makes you prepare all of his ingredients in Potions. I don't know why he hates you so much, I'm amazed that you've managed to pass the class."

"I don't know why, but I don't care. Draco's bound to take off that stupid sling soon enough, there's a Quidditch game coming up and he'll need the practice against Gryffindor. As for passing the class, maybe I'll be lucky and Black will try to kill me at the end of the year, so they'll cancel my exams again." He let out a bitter smile.

"Don't say things like that Harry." Blaise's face was sober as he spoke, and the dog was whining loudly. "Black is a maniac, and I don't think you know how worried we were about you last year. You were sitting in the bed but your eyes, they were... seeing you in the hospital wing, but not really being there, it was horrible. You scared us." His face resumed its normal expression. "Anyway, how are you going to pass Potions."

"Ugh! Can we not talk about Snape? Let's talk about more cheerful subjects, like medieval witch burnings." Laughing, they noticed extra voices, and Harry saw Neville and Ron approach, each carrying some lumpy packages.

"Good Afternoon Slytherins. Are you too busy plotting some sort of evil plot to go to Hogsmeade?" Ron said, setting the package down.

"Better than being infected with your Muggle-loving tendencies." Blaise replied, scooting over to makes some room for them.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked.

"We saw you leaving the Three Broomsticks, we figured that you wanted to be out of the crowd. But it seemed like a shame that you didn't even get a chance to try some butterbeer, and well… here." Neville said, handing over a bottle. Pleased, Harry opened the drink and took a sip. It was wonderfully fizzy.

"Careful, Harry, the Gryffindors might have poisoned it with courage." Blaise teased. The comment caught by surprise, and sent Harry in a coughing fit while the others laughed at his misfortune. Ron wiped the tears from his eyes, and handed Harry a sandwich.

"Brought some food too," he said, patting his stomach with satisfaction. Harry took a bite and ripped it half, placing it in front of the dog. He scarfed it up quickly, and eyeballed Harry's other half. Sighing, he placed the rest on the ground; he did have the feast after all.

They spent the rest of the afternoon talking under the cloudy skies, waiting for October to die. Blaise wrote a poem about the triumph of the Slytherin Quidditch Team over Gryffindor, while Ron pointed out that they were only half as good as they could be since Harry didn't play. Neville wished that he could fly on a broom, and Harry reminisced on the Firebolt. When they saw most of the people return from Hogsmeade, and they picked up their things, gave the dog a pat on the head and headed inside.

* * *

Two days later Harry knocked on Lupin's door, he had an appointment with a boggart.

"Come in Harry." Opening the door, he got a clear impression of Lupin through his office. It carried the attitude of someone ready to leave at a moment's notice, something that Harry was familiar with. But there were simple touches about the room that reminded Harry of the Burrow. As if Lupin had lived in the room for years and years and not two months.

"Harry, do you remember the spell I taught from the boggart lesson?" Lupin asked, walking over to the corner, where a large briefcase sat. When he picked it up, it wiggled in his hands.

"Yes, it's _Ridikulous_." His eyes stayed glued on the briefcase. "I'm not certain what it will be though, I'm warning you." Lupin's face looked surprised for a moment before arranging itself into its usual mild expression.

"Very well, Ready?" Harry nodded, and it opened.

Harry got a glimpse of a pale floating orb, before Lupin prodded it towards Harry. It did nothing. Harry took a step forward, and the boggart remained pale and glowing. He wondered what Lupin was afraid of. He took one more step forward, and the boggart finally changed. There was a small broken mirror on the ground. Confused, he looked at Lupin. It was true he wasn't that fond of mirrors, although he couldn't remember why. There had to be more than it that this, and Harry once again cursed that memory charm. He walked closer now, and it lay at his feet, and Harry could see his reflection. But there was something wrong with it, because those weren't his eyes looking back at him, one was milky white while the other was a gleaming yellow.

The mirror was broken into six pieces, and lay next to each other with tiny gaps, Harry could see they formed a circle, and the gaps drew some sort of shape. But there were was a piece missing in the middle, a seventh piece and he couldn't see what it was trying to tell him. He knelt to the ground for a better look, one of the pieces was darker than the others, when the boggart gave a large shudder and burst into wisp.

Harry and Lupin looked at each other.

"What is it supposed to do that?" Harry asked.

"No. No, it was not." Seeing the look of displeasure on Harry's face, Lupin offered Harry some tea. He didn't reply, instead making himself comfortable in seat.

"Harry, I've never heard of a boggart destroying itself, I'm afraid that I can't even give an explanation to why it did that."

"I don't even know what it was supposed to be. I think the mirrors were trying to tell me something, but I can't remember. Ergh! I think it would have made a lot more sense if I didn't have that stupid memory charm!" Harry complained setting his tea down unhappily.

"Perhaps, although I think that was what your boggart was trying to tell you." Seeing Harry's questioning face, Lupin continued. "The boggart was a broken mirror, which in a way tells us that you are frightened of yourself. I think the memory charm is affecting you more than you are admitting." Harry avoiding eye contact with Lupin, he was very good at this. "When I arrived, Professor Dumbledore mentioned that you may have difficulty in class because you need to catch up in some practical magic. Although, it appears that some of my predecessors didn't teach much to begin with, so that wasn't really a problem. Boggart aside, you are doing very well in my class. However, that doesn't change what happened." Lupin stopped speaking, and Harry knew that he was waiting for Harry to continue.

"I think Defense is my best class." He wiggled in the seat, looking intently at the worn mug in front of him. "I mean, I don't really know. There was an incident last year, uh, in the Dueling Club. Well, more like Dueling Display, it only happened for one day because Lockhart was the leader and because it was canceled when everyone thought I tried to kill Justin with a snake but it was actually Draco that had made it after Professor Snape showed him and Ron didn't drop his wand like Lockhart did and…" Harry could see Lupin shaking with suppressed laughter and noticed he had started rambling. He thought he had broken himself from that habit.

"Anyway, I learned the Disarming Charm, and I got it on the first try. It was easy, Blaise's eyeballs nearly rolled out of his sockets when he saw it. I've just never learned anything beyond that. So.. yeah." He fiddled with a thread on his sleeve, uncertain how to continue. "I just don't know how good it will be against Black."

Lupin gave him a stern glance. "Harry, no one is expecting you to handle Black, if anything it is quite the opposite. He was a powerful wizard when he was young, and he has even managed to escape Azkaban despite the fact no one has done it before." There was a hint of bitterness in Lupin's voice that shouldn't have been there. "You have to promise not to go looking for him."

"Let me show you something." Harry reached into his pocket, happy he managed to get the witch at Madam Malkin's to charm his pockets to be larger. He had started to collect quite a few things on his person. He found the Sneakoskope amongst the folds of his Cloak and placed it on the table.

"My friends charmed this so it will vibrate. If Black is nearby, I'll know he's coming."

"Very clever, I suppose your plan is to then hide under the Invisibility Cloak. I should warn you that Black knows about it." Lupin said.

"How did you know about that?" Harry asked aghast.

"I saw James disappear under it frequently, it wasn't a secret to those close to him." Harry looked up at Lupin. He was the one now avoiding eye contact.

"You knew Black then?"

"I… thought I did. Clearly, I was wrong."

Harry could see that talking about Black was an uncomfortable subject for Lupin and he felt slightly ashamed that he brought it up. He thought it wise to change the subject to something lighter. Unfortunately, Harry's sense of 'lighter' was slightly skewed from the normal.

"So, what dark secrets are you hiding?" He asked nonchalantly.

Lupin was quiet, and Harry wasn't certain if he imagined the tensing of his body

"What makes you think that I'm hiding something?" he asked.

"Well, the first teacher I had turned out to be a Dark wizard who got himself eaten by a giant three-headed dog, and the second was a fraud that destroyed people's memories and took credit. I should warn you, the Defense job is jinxed, so if you… I don't know…do something decidedly non-Defense-Against –the- Dark-Arts-ish, it will come back to haunt you. Sir." He said this half-jokingly, and hoped that Lupin wouldn't disappoint.

Lupin gave a small smile.

"I can promise you Harry, unlike the other two Defense teachers, I do not wish to see you harmed."

"Oh, well that's good to hear." Harry gave Lupin a wide smile, picking up his cup of tea once more

"I'm glad I meet your approval."

It was then Snape entered the classroom, pausing when he saw Harry inside the office.

"Your potion, Lupin." Snape placed a large steaming cup in front of the Professor that smelled faintly of wet dog. Then he swept out of the room, never saying a word to Harry.

"Ah, if you will excuse me Harry, I have other things to do. It is nearly curfew anyway," Lupin said as he rose from his seat.

But as Harry went down to dungeons, he noticed that Lupin had never directly answered the question. It was a tactic that he should have recognized; he did it all the time.

The next Defense Against the Dark Arts class held a surprise as it was taught by Snape. Harry was unhappy that his Head of House had now taken to usurping his favorite teacher, and made the mistake of correcting Snape of the location of kappas. The interruption caused Harry to land another detention, and stayed behind to arrange his schedule. The group was waiting for him after class, as it was Friday.

"Finally! Can't start the meeting without you!" Ernie grinned. "I've been waiting for this moment all week, and… er Harry. What's wrong?" Harry looked up, and saw his friends looking at him with expectant looks. He wiggled in his chair, before relenting.

"Well, first I see Lupin drink a potion that Snape made, then he's missing from class." He explained what he saw to the others. Ron gaped at Harry.

"But everyone knows that Snape hates Lupin, why one earth would he take it? And everyone knows he's after the Defense job!"

"I don't know, but the cup was still smoking even after he drank it," Harry said, perplexed. There was a loud scraping noise, Blaise had gotten up from his chair.

"No! No! There's no way he would hire one!" Blaise started pacing around the room. Everyone was looking at him.

"What is it Blaise?" asked Su.

"Yes, share. We don't enjoy seeing a Granger imitation when we have the real one right here." Daphne said pointing at Hermione.

Blaise looked around at the others, before sitting back down and covering his face with his hands.

"I know what potion Lupin drank."


	20. Ch 18 Moons and Boons

**Chapter Eighteen**

**Moons and Boons**

* * *

_**Desire smiles in brief flashes, like sunlight glinting from a knife-edge. And there is much else that is knife-like about Desire.**_

Description of Desire in _Season of Mists_

* * *

The group was gathered around Blaise in a tight circle.

"How do you know what he drank?" Hermione demanded.

Well, you know it's like this." Blaise rubbed his hands nervously, and Harry could see that he looked quite pale even as he rushed over to the door, and stuck his head out the doorway.

"No one is there Blaise." Harry said. "Now come over hear and quit leaving us in suspense." Blaise closed the door and spoke in hushed tones.

"Remember, I told you one of my stepfather's was an expert in alchemy? Well to do that, you have to be excellent in potions. Top scores overall, and he used to start every breakfast with a Potion fact. I wrote everyone of them down, he always made potions sound interesting, and I know what Lupin drank. Most potions stop steaming after they have cooled down, and there's only one that fits your description. And that's Wolfsbane, Lupin's a werewolf."

There were some gasps in the room, and Ernie had fallen off his chair.

"You're joking, right? There's no way that Dumbledore would hire a werewolf," he said as he rubbed his side.

"That's what I thought, everyone knows that student's are his first priority and he would never risk that sort of thing. Not to mention the stigma." Blaise wrinkled his nose. "On the other hand, the Wolfsbane potion gives the werewolf control of his human mind on the full moon. Some one like Snape could brew it easily, Dumbledore must have asked him too.

"I don't see what's the big deal is. He's the best teacher we've ever had, it doesn't matter." Dean said.

"The problem, Thomas, is that werewolves are ostracized in our world." Daphne said haughtily. "Werewolves are half-breeds and dangerous. There are many wizards who believe that they should be allowed in public, much less have wands. Despite Lupin's ability in teaching, if parents knew the truth, he would be sacked immediately."

The room was quiet after she spoke, most trying to come to grips with the news.

"So why hire Lupin? It's obvious that the staff know of his…affliction." Micheal questioned.

"Black." Everyone's attention shifted to Harry. "When we were covering the boggart Lupin warned me about him. He didn't like talking about Black, but he said they used to go to school together. I bet Dumbledore asked him to teach to keep an eye out for him."

"So to protect us from a mass murderer they have a tame wolf?" Daphne sneered.

"Will you stop calling him that! He's a person, it is not his fault he was bitten." Hermione exclaimed.

"And," Lavender said waspishly, "We all know that Harry's Sneakoscope proved he was trustworthy. We don't have to worry about him attacking us."

"Daphne, I thought we agreed that appearances weren't everything?" Harry murmured. She gave a startled glace at Harry as her face flushed pink, clearly remembering their fight last year.

"I… yes. We agreed. But it helps to have perspective Harry. Most of the world doesn't think like you do."

"Well, aren't we lucky that we have you," said Seamus.

"That's why Snape skipped to werewolves in Defense, he was hoping that we would find out and tell everyone!" Terry exclaimed

"Well that does it for me, if Snape wants me to say something, I'll keep his secret to the grave," Ron said leaning back in his chair. There were a few nervous laughs. "Anyone else with me on this?" Ernie stood up.

"I am. Lupin is clearly knowledgeable in Defense, and its clear the only reason he can't buy new robes is because of the prejudice in our society, my parents included. Not to mention there are measures in place to protect us. Knowing he's here rather than some idiot," a dark look crossed his face, "makes me feel safer." He reached into his robes and withdrew the knife that Harry had given him and made a neat cut on his thumb. There were a few mutters from his actions, and Harry himself was curious. Ernie could be a bit dramatic, sometimes pompous, but he was a person of good intentions and no one's fool.

"That's a bit much Ernie," Neville said. Ernie reached into his bag and pulled out his defense text, leaving a red fingerprint on the inside cover and continued speaking.

"No it's not. I'm not doing much, I'm just leaving a symbol. This knife opens locks, right? Well, I'm opening my mind. Every time, I open the cover of this book, I'll remind myself." He folded his pocketknife with a snap.

Susan Bones reached into her own bag withdrawing her text. "Hufflepuff is about hard-work and loyalty. Lupin has proven to us that he is worth trusting, Dumbledore let him in the school. And with the exception of Snape, the staff doesn't have a problem with him either. Harry is right; we try our best to not judge people on appearances. It may not have been the reason we all started getting together, but it has become the reason why we are friends. Houses and blood don't matter, just us." She too placed a red smudge in her book. Hannah continued.

"Snape's tactics were sneaky and underhanded. He can't say anything about it but he could try his best to get us to do it."

"You mean his tactics were Slytherin." Blaise supplied, giving Hannah a look. She turned pink but looked back at him defiantly, flicking her own pocket knife open.

"This is the first test we have. Are we just talk, or are we going to change the world?"

"Change the world, who said anything about changing the world?" Padma asked with alarm.

"You think we won't?" Susan challenged. "Look at us. A few of us have parents high up in the Ministry; my Aunt is one of them. It will be easy for us to get jobs there. Hermione is the smartest person in our class, she won't have any trouble to do whatever it is she wants, most people won't know she's Muggle-born until much later. Some of us have wealthy families, connections, and all of us have Harry. If he can't open a door for us, no one can. The press after his attack proved it. We may not have a goal now, but we have time."

"In a way, it's really appropriate that you gave us the knife, Harry. You can open doors for us." Ernie quipped. Harry neglected to tell them that he was like a knife in more than one way, neatly placing his own thumbprint in the book.

Justin shook his head. "I'm not quite certain about this, but I think my parents would be very upset at me joining a cult, so uh, lets not tell them." Everyone had their defense texts open now, most of them waiting for the blood to dry.

"A cults need a leader Justin, and we don't have one." Harry pointed out. There was some laughter, and Ron spoke above it.

"What are you then, a puffskin?"

"I, for one, will admit that I find the idea of a werewolf teaching distasteful." Daphne admitted. "But, you promised me that you had talent and power. You haven't shown much of it, but I'm not stupid. Unlike some of our housemates, I can see that you are hiding it. The pureblood way is old and noble, but the years have proven that it is shifting to irrelevance. I doubted you once, and when I was proved wrong I felt like a fool. I won't do that again, so I'll try to change."

Catching Harry's alarmed face, Ron put his book up. "Face it Harry, we're here because of you. We found out about Lupin because of you. And I'm tired of people like Malfoy treating my dad like dragon dung because he works with Muggles, and turning my back on Lupin would be just the same. We're not much, but we're something."

"Hear, hear!" cheered Seamus. "Now whose turn is it to free Sirius Black?"

* * *

November passed slowly, it was a stormy month and the skies were dreary. Harry was glad that he was not on the Quidditch Team, practice would have been miserable. Slytherin had tried to switch their game because of Draco's injury, but that argument was lost when Sprout found him hexing a first year after Harry gave her a small hint. Snape had arranged for Harry's detention to be that day, knowing he would have been keen to watch them play against Gryffindor. Harry ended up spending hours disemboweling frogs, partially glad that he was not outside in that horrible weather. It was late in the afternoon when he made his way back to the Common Room, and he found the room subdued. It turns out that Gryffindor only won by thirty points, so Slytherin was still in the running for the cup. However, Dementors had appeared on the field at the end of the match. Couple that with the rain, and everyone felt miserable.

December brought with it a rush of energy as it held another Hogsmeade visit, and Harry entered the Three Broomsticks rather than braved the cold. As it was still early, the pub wasn't too full, but Harry knew it wouldn't last long. Most of the other student's had gone Christmas shopping, exploring the stores for gifts to bestow their friends. Harry had already done his shopping as he gave almost everyone the exact same thing, a snowglobe of Hogsmeade village. He had forgone the visit to Honeydukes, the large bag of Everyflavor beans mocked him silently in his trunk, as the intended recipient remained unknown.

He sipped his butterbeer, from a corner of the room making plans for the holidays. He was alone for Christmas once again this year, the dormitory being shared by only one other Slytherin. It would probably be a good time to clean out his trunk and organized his notes. He was nearly caught up with his last two years of lessons, and hoped that the break would give him the time he needed to finish it up. He was tired of spending most of his extra time in review sessions with his teachers or finishing his homework. The door jingled open and Harry saw Ron, Neville, and Hermione enter, Harry slipped the list in his pocket and waved them over.

And the teachers approached him when everyone left, telling him that he shouldn't venture out of the castle alone. He knew that the others were worried about Sirius Black, despite the fact he had not been seen since an sighting in early August. The restrictions made him fidgety, he didn't like restrictions, not ever since he had been freed from the two assassins some years ago. Cages were still cages, no matter how pretty. He ended up taking the same approach he had at the Dursley's, waking early in the morning for a run cleared his mind. It served his frustration well, timing his runs between the moving staircases, secret passages and trick doorways ended up exhausting him mentally as well as physically.

Harry awoke early on Christmas, not for a run, but to open his presents. There were a number of sweets, a Weasley sweater and Harry was amused that some of the girls had pitched in to purchase him an enchanted mirror and a hair comb. Draco had the same mirror, and it frequently made disdainful comments to everyone other than the owner. He placed the gifts to the side, reaching for the largest package. Unwrapping the paper, he found the best broomstick in the world, the Firebolt.

His jaw dropped, and for the first time in his life, he wished he were sharing the room with Draco. Even the dim glow from the candles showed the diamond hard varnish. His mind raced with questions, and he desperately searched for a nametag so he could write a thank you note. He half suspected Quality Quidditch supplies had sent one, hoping that he would give an endorsement for the product. But he couldn't find one. This dimmed his enthusiasm, even Dumbledore had enclosed a note to let Harry know why he received it even though his name wasn't signed. Uneasy he went to breakfast.

There were only a handful of people at the table, three students and Professor McGonagall, Madam Hooch, and Professor Burbage, the Muggle Studies teacher. Helping himself to some toast, he flipped open the paper, and choked on the bread.

**Sirius Black Sighted in Hogsmeade**

Looking at the teachers, he noticed that they all looked rather exhausted, and had a feeling that they had stayed up part of the night to patrol. A pang in his stomach, he remembered the broomstick in his room. He really couldn't imagine anyone spending that much money on him, but if Sirius Black wanted him dead…

He ate his breakfast slowly, waiting for Professor McGonagall to rise from the table as he wasn't really familiar with the other two. When she was exiting the Great Hall Harry rose, making a mad dash her direction once he passed through the doors.

"Professor McGonagall, wait up." She stopped and turned to Harry.

"Um… what do you know about broomsticks?"

"Potter, I've had a long night, and I would like to get some rest so I can enjoy my Christmas," she snapped. Well, that confirmed his suspicions.

"Er, about that Professor, there's something you need to see. I got a Christmas present, and I thought it was a bit odd." Catching the look of impatience on her face, he continued hurriedly. "I got a Firebolt this morning, it's the most expensive broomstick in the world, professional grade, and there wasn't a note of who it was from. At first I thought it might have been from a Quidditch store, but after reading the paper I thought…" McGonagall's face had turned pale and she walked to the Slytherin dormitory at a brisk pace. Harry blinked and then jogged to catch up with her.

"No note?" The weariness had disappeared from her face.

"No. I haven't touched it yet, the Firebolt was wrapped in this really nice paper and I just stared at it all morning." They stopped in front of the blank wall.

"_Acromantula."_

The wall parted and Harry stepped into the dormitory, leading the way for McGonagall. Harry was grateful that the room wasn't a mess; it could have been embarrassing. However, the talking mirror he unwrapped earlier caught sight of the teacher and felt an urge to contribute.

"Oh dear, you aren't exactly in a festive mood. Cheer up, and stop looking like the back end of an elephant." Harry felt his face flush and was grateful McGonagall chose to ignore the comment. He stuffed the mirror in a drawer and handed the package to her. She opened it and sucked a breath.

"My goodness. Yes, I think Potter that you were quite right in giving me this. I shall hand this over to Professor Flitwick, he should be able to do a complete check on the charms placed on this broom." Then she left.

Harry went over to his trunk. It was best if he made some room in case if he ever got the Firebolt back, he had collected quite a bit of junk. He sorted through some old letters, broken quills, and ink splattered notes. (_There were many quills; he always pressed too hard.)_ There were a few blank notebooks, and Harry spent some time creating piles so he could order some of his most important notes during the rest of break. He had overheard some of the fifth year Slytherins borrowing the younger years lessons in order to review for their OWLs, despite the fact they were still sixth months away. He didn't want to be caught in that position.

While going through his trunk he came across the pouch once again. He had forgotten about the sand, and slipped it open. There was something important about it, he knew it. He sank a finger into the sand, feeling its coarse texture. His eyes fluttered shut, and he collapsed on the ground.

Harry awoke three hours, his body uncomfortable from unexpected nap. The sand lay at his feet. Wiping his mouth of dried saliva, Harry got to his feet and headed to Christmas dinner in high spirits. He discovered the sand was actually sleeping powder, he had a brand new sweater, and Sirius Black failed to kill him. It was a wonderful day.


	21. Ch 19 Charade of a Decade

**Chapter Nineteen**

**Charade of a Decade**

* * *

_**There are really patterns. It was a revelation, of a kind. Dreams and sand and stories. Deserts and cities and time.**_

Sandman in _Fables and Reflections_

* * *

Harry spoke to Ron about the Firebolt when he returned from the holidays on their way to Hagrid's hut. Normally Harry wouldn't accompany him, but he was beginning to forget what the sky look liked after being locked in so long.

"I'm glad you're not on the Quidditch team." Ron said.

"Don't worry, I don't think that's going to change, I'm too busy trying to keep afloat with my studies. Besides, if I ever get it back you'll be welcome to give it a fly once and a while."

"That would be nice, being in the Common Room is a pain lately. Hermione has been in an awful mood because she has so much homework. And do you remember that cat she bought over the summer? She won't even keep an eye on the thing. I keep finding it climbing up our stairs, it has its eye on Scabbers. He's in bad health and now I have to watch out that he isn't eaten." Ron vexed.

"Why don't you take him with you when you aren't around. He sleeps most of the time anyway, and you don't have to worry about finding a pile of fur on your bed one day." Harry reasoned.

Ron nodded. "You know I just might do that. Pity we can't find a solution for Buckbeak."

They had arrived and Ron knocked on the door and stepped inside.

Hagrid was seated at a large table, and he was blowing his nose on a tablecloth. He looked surprised by Harry's presence, but didn't say anything. Instead, he served them a cup of tea, explaining how Mr. Malfoy had managed to use his position on the Board of Governors in order to demand the hippogriff's execution in three days. Ron tried to comfort him, but Harry felt uncomfortable in the room, the man was weeping over an animal. Harry wasn't moved, things die all the time. Surely a grown man like Hagrid should know that. Harry wondered how Tom Riddle managed to convince people that someone as... _soft_ as Hagrid could open the Chamber of Secrets. He resisted the urge to go ask the diary himself. Exasperated over the fuss, he searched his mind for a solution, remembering the pouch in his trunk.

"I have some sleeping powder. If you want I can put some over Buckbeak. I may not be able to save him, but at least he won't know what's happening. He'll be sound asleep, dreaming of wide skies and all that." Harry tried to keep the annoyance from his voice.

Hagrid looked up from the table, his voice gruffy. "You'd do that? That'd be somethin'." He honked his nose loudly and thanked Harry.

Unfortunately, the hippogriff situation did not end there as Draco became intolerable the next few days. Harry found himself resisting the urge to strangle him. Really, he hadn't had the urge to kill anyone in a long time, but Draco managed to awake his dormant visions of blood. The last class before the hippogriff's execution was Herbolgy in which Draco did a parody of a weeping Hagrid over some Envy Vine. Harry had to dart out of Herbology as soon it was over, heading for the hut in the distance. He knew the teachers would disapprove of Harry being by himself, but really it was for the best. He had come very close to shoving his fellow classmate into some Venomous Tentacula.

Arriving at the hut, he took a deep breath of crisp cold air, hearing a snap of a twig. The stray dog was emerging from the Forbidden Forest once more, looking pathetic in the cold. It loped over to Harry, and he gave it a pat on the head. Then the dog's head twitched and it took off in a mad dash towards the forest. Perplexed, Harry adjusted the strap of his bag, and heard what had caused the dogs alarm. He saw some men approaching the hut, and Harry could make out distinctive blonde hair and Dumbledore's long beard, and a shining axe. The execution party was here.

Harry hastily reached into his bag; he didn't want Hagrid to see him, lest he turn to Harry for emotional support. Withdrawing the pouch he took out a handful of red sand, and threw it on the hippogriff which had been chained outside. It flapped its wings powerfully, then swayed and thumped on the ground unconscious.

"What was that noise?" someone asked.

Swearing, Harry darted into the forest as well, he didn't feel like being chastised by Dumbledore for being alone while Black was free. He hid behind a tree and put on his Cloak just in case. Five people emerged from the side of the hut, Dumbledore, Mr. Malfoy, Hagrid, Minister Fudge (who Harry recognized from his numerous press photos), and the executioner.

"I believe it was the hippogriff, MacNair. Well, at least the creature won't give you troubles," Malfoy said.

"Yes, well it's best if we just get on with it. All the paperwork has been signed already, and we still need to discuss the Black issue." Fudge rubbed his gloved hands together as he spoke. Harry felt a pang of pity for the animal as MacNair raised his axe, keeping his eyes on it despite the oncoming blow.

The hippogriff snorted, twitched its wings, and rolled in its sleep causing MacNair to miss the throat, instead hitting the chain. It broke the shackle with a loud clang and the hippogriff awoke. It got to its feet quickly, stepping back, realizing it was free. Turning it took several large leaps, spread its wings and flew away before MacNair had removed the axe from the ground. The others looked at the hippogriff fly away in amazement, Malfoy was furious, but Hagrid was sobbing and waving a goodbye.

"How did it get free?" Malfoy demanded to MacNair.

"It's the spell place on the axe that way it only takes one swipe. It cut right through the chain." MacNair looked quite embarrassed and angry. Dumbledore looked quite cheerful.

"Ah, well, perhaps some creatures aren't to be tamed. Minister, I believed we have some things to discuss." The Minister nodded and they left the hut, Harry followed them, far enough behind so they couldn't see him.

The entrance hall was empty, but he could here some muffled voices coming from the stairs off to the side. The Gryffindor's were coming back from their Divination class. Ron and Hermione were arguing as usual, with the others giving each other looks of annoyance, clearly they had been at it for a while.

"I don't know why you're so proud of yourself. It's obvious that Divination is the most useless subject in existence!" Hermione screeched. Parvati and Lavender made disgruntled faces behind her back.

"You just don't like admitting that you're bad at something for once," Ron retorted.

"No, I simply don't know what people see in Divination. None of it's real," she said impatiently. Harry thought she was doing a lovely impression of McGonagall on Christmas.

"You need to broaden your horizons Hermione. Some of it might be."

"Shut up, Harry," she snapped. Her hair was in messy and frizzed, the bag slung over her shoulder was filled with books, and she was still clutching three more in her arms. He vaguely remembered Ron mentioning she had signed up for all of the classes. It was clear that the stress was getting to her.

"First of all, you don't take Divination, so you can't see what a fraud Trelawny is." Harry blinked at her.

"Um, alright. I don't see why you just don't drop the class, it's obvious that you hate it."

"I can't do that! I'm going to drop it at the end of the year."

"You should do us the favor and do it today, you're irritating" Harry replied tersely. Hermione's jaw dropped open for a second, before she steeled herself, her jaw set in defiance as she raised her head.

"Fine, I'll drop it the minute the first prediction said in class comes true. Go ahead Ron, prove to Harry what a wonderful thing Divination is. Tell him what you predicted today." Her eyes had become teary towards the end.

"Well," Ron said sheepishly. "Trelawny is a fan of tragedy, Hermione's right in that she makes things up. If any of your predictions are full of bad luck and misery, she laps it up. And today she was talking about death in the air, and I knew she was talking about Buckbeak. It was turn to say what I saw in the crystal globe, and the last time I told her there was going to be a lot of fog she wasn't pleased. So I just made up some sort of story how Buckbeak was going to be freed from his chains and make a grand escape with everyone watching on the ground." Harry's jaw dropped open.

Ron misinterpreted his shock and spoke hastily. "I know that was horrible of me to say, but really you wouldn't have let her go on like that either Harry. "

Harry shook his head. "But Buckbeak did escape, it happened about fifteen minutes ago." Lavender gave a gasp, and he could hear Hermione sputtering. Harry stuffed his hands into his pockets, and connected with the pouch. An question springing to mind, he waved the Gryffindor's a hasty goodbye. He could hear Dean and Ron telling her to march over to McGonagall's as he headed toward's Lupin's office.

"Come in." Harry darted into the office and saw that Lupin was grading some essays.

"Professor Lupin, I was hoping you would take a look at something." Harry pulled out the drawstring bag from his pocket placing it on the desk. Perhaps it was more than sleeping powder?

"I found this in my trunk last year, after my attack. I don't know why I have it, I couldn't remember, and I sort of forgot about it. But I was cleaning my trunk after Christmas and I found it again. I thought it might have been sleeping powder, so I kept it. But now I'm not so sure."

Lupin gave Harry a questioning glance, before settling himself in his chair and pulled the bag forward."All right, I'll have a look." He pulled the pouch forward, and opened it, pausing his hand before reaching in, and giving Harry an amused look. "I think you brought me the wrong bag Harry, there's nothing in here.

"What? No, I don't have another pouches. I used it all?" He snapped the object from Lupin's hands and opened it. The red sand sparkled from inside. "Professor, it's still in here." He looked up wonderingly at Lupin, who was giving the bag an intense look.

"I imagine there's an enchantment on the bag so you are the only one who can retrieve items from it. Moleskin bags have similar attributes. Can you show me some of this sand?" Harry nodded and took out a handful, placing it gently in Lupin's hands. It shimmered in his hands before turning into a cool mist and disappearing. It smelled like a storm was coming. Lupin raised an eyebrow.

"Well, Harry I can tell you that this is no ordinary sleeping powder. I can consult the other teachers if you would like, perhaps Professor Dumbledore would have a better idea of what it is." Harry shook his head.

"No thank you sir, I don't want to bother him over something like this. I'm sure he's a very busy person."

And with that he left.

The next Friday meeting Hermione told everyone that she had dropped Muggle Studies and Divination, much to everyone's relief. It turns out that she had subjected everyone to her bad moods. She also confessed to everyone how she got to the classes as well.

"I used an object called a time turner. Professor McGonagall had to write loads of letters over the summer so I could have one to get to classes. She said I was a model student and I wouldn't use it for anything else or tell anyone. But now that I dropped the classes I have a normal schedule so I don't have it anymore. And they never said I couldn't tell you now." She said with a sly smile.

"Wow, what was it like?" Terry asked enviously.

"It was confusing. Keeping track of everything was a nightmare, honestly. But the time-turner was easy to use. It was small, and I wore it like a necklace. It looked like an hourglass filled with sand and with just a few twists I went back in time," she explained.

Harry's breath caught when she said sand.

O

Remus Lupin dreamed.

It was an odd sort of dream, in that he knew that he was actually asleep. He was standing in a street and before him he could see Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew. They were arguing loudly, but Remus couldn't understand the words they were saying, only the emotion behind them. Then Peter turned into a rat and Sirius turned into a dog. Then a man with a large axe walked into the street, Remus recognized him as the Walden MacNair, the man who failed to kill Hagrid's hippogriff. He picked up his axe and walked over to the Sirius-dog and cut off his head.

Then Peter-rat scuttled over the body and turned back into a person, and he picked up Sirius' head and handed it to the exocutioner. MacNair nodded and Apparated away. Peter then took out his wand and blew up the street. There was a giant hole in the street, and a manticore came out from it, and the Muggles were screaming everywhere, and one of the Muggles was actually Ron Weasley. Ron took out his wand and cried out a spell, the manticore was a boggart, and shifted into the fallen form of Harry Potter.

He was dead on the street, his arms looked broken and no one was cheering for Ron, who was given an Order of Merlin. Confetti was tossed in the air, and they shifted and shaped into _The Daily Prophet_. The headline read: Peter Pettigrew given Order of Merlin.

Then he woke up.

He couldn't really remember his dream but it left him unsettled.

He went to breakfast and was having a pleasant conversation with Sinastra when the mail arrived. All of the teachers received a copy of The Daily Prophet for free and when Remus read the headline he choked on his tea

**Black sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss**

He needed to talk to Dumbledore.

O

Ron Weasley was in an excellent mood. He was going downstairs for dinner. Ron was worried that he would be late, but it appeared that Dumbledore wasn't at the table. Sitting in his place was the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge. Confused, Ron sat down next to Neville, and gave Hagrid a wave at the front table. He saw Lupin staring his direction, but unlike Hagrid, he seemed quite unhappy. McGonagall stood up. "Professor Dumbledore is a bit busy for the moment, attending to some security details. Some of you may notice a slight ripple of magic during the meal, but I assure you, that is to be expected."

Ron withdrew Scabbers from his pocket, setting him on a special plate, making certain that Lavender didn't see him; she thought Scabbers was disgusting. Thanks to Harry's suggestion, Scabbers was looking healthier than he had in months. He turned to Neville, and they spoke of the last Charms class, both of them were using hand-me-down wands, and Flitwick delicately explained perhaps they should get new ones.

"I wish I didn't have Charlie's old wand, it used to belong to another uncle of mine. Sometimes I think that it works just enough so my mum doesn't try to get me a new one."

"Yeah. I know what you mean. I use my dad's old wand, sometimes I wish I had another," Neville replied. Ron wondered what had happened to Neville's dad, but kept his mouth shut. He had a sinking suspicion it would be considered rude.

Then there was a faint odor, a crackle of energy in the air, and then a '_pop_' right next to Ron. And hunched on the table was a filthy man, his hands pressed to his face, with a look of alarm.


	22. Ch 20 Traitor Caught, Infinite Thought

**Chapter Twenty**

**Traitor Caught, Infinite Thought**

* * *

"_**Wake up.**_"

Unity Kincaid's mother in _Preludes & Nocturnes_

* * *

There was a loud cry from the teacher's table and Ron and the nearby Gryffindors back up quickly.

"**You!** But I saw Black blow you to bits. I was there!" Fudge exclaimed.

The man had turned nervously the head table, eyes wide in fear. By then most of the noise had dropped, many wanting to hear what was next.

"They must have switched, there is no other explanation. Why else would a man fake his death and spend his life as a rat?" It was Lupin who spoke, voice grave, and hateful.

Hagrid roared, "JAMES AND LILY, PETER, HOW COULD YOU?"

The man had begun to panic now, and began to shift once more into a rat. But the teacher's had recovered from their shock, and had already moved onto action. There was a blast and Pettigrew was wrapped in the tightest of ropes.

Snape's eyes were glittering the darkest black. "You never were very intelligent Pettigrew. But I must congratulate you, I never sentenced Black to Azkaban, even though I hated him." A red jet of light soared out of McGonagalls wand, and hit Pettigrew, and he grew limp. Snape floated the body out of the room, and following behind him were Lupin, Hagrid, and Fudge, whose face was ashen in shock.

The school watched the procession in awe, and as soon as they went through the doors they burst out in mutterings. Blaise and Daphne were silent however, looking at the spot that Harry should have been sitting. He wouldn't be pleased by this development.

O

Harry was outside. The Slytherin team was having Quidditch practice and Harry had used this time out go to run. Being locked up in the castle because Black was making him antsy, and he had become irritable in recent days. Not to mention he frequently caught himself daydreaming of spectacular ways he could kill Draco. There was one version that used his old sling from the hippogriff attack that he was particularly proud of.

Madam Hooch monitored all practices in case the escapee was spotted so Harry was allowed to be outside. He was finishing his last lap around the Quidditch field, when he noticed something odd. Hermione's cat was trotting to the forest. He was astonished that the cat managed to find its way outside despite being locked up in Gryffindor Tower. He headed over to Crookshanks, he should probably catch the cat before it slipped into the Forest. And then the black dog bounded out from amongst the trees.

Recognizing the dog, Harry went over the give it a pat on the head. Harry could almost see the value of having a pet if it was a friendly like this. Crookshanks darted between his feet, the thick bottlebrush tail brushing just under the dog's nose. The dog sneezed once, a crackle of energy filled the air, the dog sneezed twice, then a popping noise and Sirius Black sneezed for a third time, this time most assuredly not in dog form.

Harry swore already in motion as he scrambled backwards withdrawing his wand. Black was wiping his nose with his dirty sleeve as Harry hexed him.

"_Petrificus Totalus_." Black stiffened and fell over flat on his back. Harry walked over to him and kicked him in the ribs. A strangled noise escaped from Black's throat, and Harry let out a dark chuckle. Kneeling, he bent over to Black and spoke low in his ear.

"You should have tried to kill me earlier when you had the chance. Unlucky for you that I was never really alone long enough for you to have a clean chance. And now, lucky for me, I do." He pulled up the leg of his trousers and withdrew the blade he kept strapped there and tapped the flat side firmly against Black's forehead, leaving a small line of blood against the man's forehead. Black's eyes focused on the knife, and if he could have flinched, he would have.

"You know, my friends and I have come up with all sorts of outrageous explanations on how you managed to escape Azkaban. I think all of us have accidentally become experts of magical concealment because of it. Hannah in particular, swore up, down, and sideways that you could turn into a flowering shrub. We teased her for weeks, but it turns out she was the closest. I feel so foolish, I of all people should know not base on appearances. We even studied Animagi this year in Transfiguration and…" he stopped, there was something coming.

He flicked his blade into his pocket and then he saw five dementors. Of course. The Ministry had sentenced Black to The Kiss, the obliteration of the man's very soul, this was far better than any attempt Harry could make. He wouldn't have to get his hand's dirty, in fact, he might just be able to stretch the experience into his favor. He could imagine it now, rushing in the Great Hall where everyone was having dinner, and stutter how Black had tried to attack him. He could act traumatized, and McGonagall would implore the other teachers to give him a pass from homework for a couple of weeks. Hell, maybe he could milk it for the rest of his life, acting weak and nervous; never letting others know of the tight control he held on his real self.

He shot Black a dark grin as he stepped back, and the prisoner's eyes widen in shock. The dementors were moving quickly and it grew a little bit colder as they approach, but Harry wasn't really concerned. He heard dementors fed on misery, and Harry was feeling pretty damn satisfied right now. Then they stopped approaching, as if there was some sort of invisible wall that they could not break. They all their lowered their hoods, and Harry became one of the few people to see what was underneath. Their faces looked like rotting flesh, and in unison they all took a deep, rattling breath.

Then it felt like an icicle had been driven in Harry's head, and it was very cold, too cold. And the memories that had escaped him these few months came flooding back in a rush. He remembered violet colored skies, sweat, the tapping of nails, knowing smiles, the rustle of a page turning, the smell of peaches, and the feeling of sand on his fingers. It was too much, and he wasn't aware that he was screaming, he didn't notice the dementor's approach, or that Black had shielded his body.

All he knew was the memories were too much, too fast, and he plunged into his memories like a man drowning in icy waters.

O

Madam Hooch was already halfway down the stairs of the Quidditch Pitch when she heard his screams. She caught sight of the dementors and cast a patronus to send them away, and cast a charm to imprison Black while he was still unconscious. Relieved she floated both of the unconscious to the castle, catching sight of another train of people. Minister Fudge so horrified that Harry was nearly given The Kiss did not summon one into the school, but preformed an interrogation in Dumbledore's office.

Remus Lupin had confessed that Sirius Black had become an Animagus during Hogwart's time, and he believed that Sirius would be unable to perform it anymore, so he was silent. The announcement of the Kiss caused him to confess to Dumbledore, who spend most of the week crafting a ward that would make Animagi transformation impossible. The result was not only Black being found, but also the undoing of the thirteen-year-old disguise of Peter Pettigrew. Healer's had been brought it once more when Harry did not awake, and after an examination discovered that the dementor's had ripped through the memory charm, and his body was attempting to recuperate.

The Daily Prophet was very popular during the next few weeks, the student's who subscribed to it would find their copies were borrowed during breakfast and would appear on their beds at the end of the day, looking worn and covered in juice stains.

On April First, the paper exclaimed **Dead Come to Life, Man found Unmangled! **

On April Second, the headline declared **Traitor Tells Truth, Black Blamed!**

On April Third, the paper questioned **Illegal Animagi, How Common Are They?**

On April Forth, it read, **Black Returns, Ministry Gives Apology**

O

Meanwhile, Harry was in a very cold place with low mist on the ground. A thousand memories raced into his head. The thoughts that Lockhart had stolen from his brain appeared once more, and Harry marveled at the power of magic.

Because it was really quite amazing that such an inept man like Lockhart made Harry forget about The Endless.

He tried to assimilate his thoughts, but it was difficult. The Endless were such a large part of his life. Although he was unaware when he was in the waking world, he had always known about them in some way. It explained the colors he could see, a side effect from all the time he spent in Delirium's realm as a child, and why he knew some things just by instinct, things that he shouldn't know.

It also explained the bag of sand that rested innocently in his trunk. It was the Dream Lord's, it wouldn't make Harry invincible, but it would give him an advantage, if he could figure out how to use it properly. He moaned when her realized that he used one of the handfuls on a hippogriff.

Harry explored the area, there were mirrors hanging all around him, hanging limply from nonexistent threads, this was Despair's realm. Most of them were covered in sheets, and curious, Harry removed one of them. He saw himself, on the verge of killing a nine-year- old boy. As he proceeded to remove them, Harry saw they were all images of his life. As he went farther, he discovered a pattern; they went backwards. He ended up in front of a portrait of his mother. He could see himself in the cot behind her, there were tears in her eyes, and although the portrait was still like a Muggle photograph, her hair gently floated as if she were underwater.

A part of Harry thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.

A rat crawled over his toes, and he lifted his foot. One recalled one particularly bad time, where he was on the floor in misery, cold and unmoving. They had begun to chew his toes off, but even after Harry realized this, he couldn't summon the energy to make them stop. He was relieved to find out that his toes weren't gone in the real world, only to be terrified to find they could be chewed all over again when he returned.

He didn't like rats.

He stayed there alone, assimilating the thoughts that came in his mind. He covered all of the portraits again with the dirty sheets, except for the last. He couldn't seem to do that, because a part of him understood the beauty in the anguish.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

And when he woke up in Hogwarts a month later, he remembered everything he had forgotten.

His body moved sluggishly, an effect of staying motionless. Drinking from the glass of water that was set by his bed, Harry tried to eliminate the taste of unwashed sock from his mouth. His trunk was at the foot of his bed, so Harry went to it. It had set there by a generous person, and at the very top was the Remembrall. He picked it up, and to his delight, it did not change color. Harry raised it up to his eye, where it captured the setting sun. It was as if Harry had captured a small star in his hands.

When Madam Pomphrey entered minutes later, she found him leaning against an open window, a content smile on his face.

"Potter, you're up! Get back to that bed this instant." She saw him saunter over, his left hand playing with a string hanging from his pajamas. Checking him over thoroughly, she found nothing wrong, before allowing him to speak.

"What happened?"

"The dementors tried to kiss you, it was really quite fortunate that Black shielded you." Catching the look of astonishment on his face, she further explained. "It turns out that he was framed, and was entering Hogwarts in search of the guilty party. The Ministry has absolved him from his wrong doings, he's spent the past month fixing up a house in Hogsmeade, very popular man right now."

"Oh… I have my memories back now, the dementor's ripped apart the memory charm or something. In fact, I think I remember more than I did before." Madame Pomphrey looked at him suspiciously, a told him she would arrange for a St. Mungo's Healer to visit.

Harry said nothing, his mind full of peaceful thoughts.

* * *

With the issue of Black resolved, the school seemed to have become less tense. The teacher's were in a better mood, and Harry was grateful that they were no longer following his every move. Black had visited Harry one time, never mentioning their initial meeting in the forest, rather speaking of his role as Harry's godfather. He confirmed that he was the one who sent Harry the Firebolt, although it was unhexed, and suggested that Harry could visit him at any time over the summer, although he would have to spend some time with the Dursley's. Harry, grateful to Sirius for not mentioning his plans to get Sirius Kissed, quickly agreed.

It was with some shock that exams approached one more, and Harry and the other's huddled in musty rooms studying for their exams. Harry found he had learned a great deal about medieval witch burnings, not so much about Potions. Defense Against of the Dark Arts was easy, and was bemused to find that some of his friends had difficulty evading some of the dark creatures. He wondered if this was what it like to Hermione, watching the other's moan about how they were tricked by a hinkypunk.

He was heading for the Great Hall later that week when he saw Blaise rushing out.

"Harry, did you hear, Lupin's resigning!"

"What! Why?" asked Harry in shock.

"Didn't you hear? Mr. Malfoy found out that Lupin was a werewolf during one of his visits to Hogwarts. He walked right into the room and found him sitting on the rug. He told the rest of the Board and they booted him out. He's leaving today, he just has to finish packing It's all over the school." Harry groaned. Draco would be insufferable now.

"Draco will be unbearable now." Blaise said, a look of distaste on his face. Harry shook his head, and then had a thought. Muttering a thanks to Blaise, he took off for Lupin's office, he didn't even bother knocking, only pausing to open the handle. The room was already empty save a large tank on a chair. Lupin's back was to the door, and Harry heard the click of his briefcase closing shut.

"You're a werewolf." He burst out, and watching the back of Lupin's spine straighten, he realized how incredibly idiotic of greeting it was.

Social skills, one thing he might never master.

Lupin's turned around, and the lines on his face looked pronounced amongst the dim light, a bitter smile on his face. Harry felt incredibly embarrassed, he had secrets of his own, that someone would speak them out loud, wasn't his greatest fear. He knew who he was, Harry was more worried of other's reaction. Lupin probably felt the same.

"I mean… I… er… We knew. I already knew…actually most of the third years knew." He saw a look of surprise flicker across Lupin's face and he hastened to finish his reply, noting that his friend had followed him. "Blaise recognized the description of the Wolfsbane potion when I saw it during my boggart lesson. So we've known all this time. I… er… don't really know how other's treat you, I've not spent much time in the Wizarding world, but Daphne mentioned some biases, and um… well. We kept your secret. That's all I was really going to say. You're a werewolf, but you were our teacher, the best teacher we could have hoped for, so we kept your secret."

Harry felt uncomfortable, it was rare that he revealed secrets, and his outburst was becoming far too emotional for him. Fortunately, Blaise came to his rescue and proceeded to explain.

"What Harry is trying to say is that we appreciate you. Some of us have things that we prefer to keep secret discussed publicly too. My mother has many dead husbands and people always test their food in front of me, thinking I have her habits. Harry's a parselmouth, you should have heard the fuss they made last year. And Weasley's an idiot, everyone hates idiots."

Harry snorted, catching the quirk of Lupin's mouth. Harry nodded his head before he and Blaise scurried out the door before Lupin could recover himself. It wouldn't do for Lupin to get all emotional. But it wasn't until Harry caught Daphne hexing Draco's ears into butterflies did he become relaxed once more.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Desire stood in its gallery in which seven portraits sat, the portraits were the way it could call on its brothers and sisters. The first three were symbols of the older, more responsible Endless, there was the book with chains (Destiny), one an ankh (Death), and a helmet (Dream, who had made it from the bones of the first god).

It the middle was blank space (it would be a sword if it Destruction hadn't left), then a hook (Despair), a glass heart (Desire), and the last was a splotch of color (Delirium) that looked like nothing if you looked closely. (If you weren't, you just might see a fish, or a duck, or yourself.) Desire reached for the small ring with a hook on it.

"Sister, I am standing in my gallery holding your sigil, can I come speak to you?" Then she burst into whisp, landing in the realm of its twin sister, Despair.

"Is it true? Has the boy let you in his mind again?" Desire asked. Despair nodded her head, walking over to a portrait.

"The dementors brought him to my realm and they awoke his thoughts. He remembers us." Despair muttered, pressing her hands against a mirror, her nose a hair away from touching it. Desire's eyes glinted.

"How interesting. He should have fallen apart like the others, but his mind was transported here instead. No matter, we always knew the boy was special. Then what?"

"He removed the coverings of the portraits he placed himself, the ones woven of hope. When he left this one was still visible. I think…" Despair hesitated. "I think he understood." Desire stared at the portrait, looking at Lily and Harry.

Desire wanted one in his realm.

"Hmm… Very interesting. He embraces Delirium, Destiny's book has entire chapters devoted to him, and Death even obliged to let him live. And he has bested Dream, stuffy, boring, Dream, which is something I've been trying to do for years. He had locked you away, like me, but has decided to let you back in. It's as if the boy has some sort of plan, except for the fact his a mortal boy, he is no threat." She licked her lips. "Do you think that he will let me back in?" Desire asked of Despair.

"Mortals always want things, it is only a matter of time."

A cruel smile flashed on Desire's face. "Oh, how magnificent. Something to look forward then, hmm?" Desire made to leave, when Despair calld her.

"And what about our other brother?" she asked,

"The Prodigal? What of him?" Desire asked sharply.

"Do you think he has met the boy too?" Desire hesitated, peering at her twin, the question had never entered Desire's mind before.

"I... I don't know, sister. But for his sake, he better not have." Desire responded, and wisped off to The Threshold.


	23. Ch 21 Two Mutts

**Chapter 21**

**Two Mutts**

* * *

_**"You know, Barnabas, there are those who claim that for unquestioning respect and eternal devotion, all one needs is a dog."**_

**"Hey, schmuck, devotion you've got. Perjury isn't in the job description."**

Destruction and Barnabas the dog,_ -Brief Lives_

* * *

There was a jingling noise, and then a click of a lock. Harry opened the door to the apartment awkwardly, trying to not drop the groceries he had bought.

"Sirius?" No response. Shaking his head, he went towards the refrigerator to put up the food. Even though Sirius was the adult, sometimes Harry felt as if he was the responsible one. Still, France had done him some good, the haunted look was disappearing from Sirius' eyes each day. Shutting the door to the refrigerator, he walked over to the window. There sun was low in the Paris sky, and Harry took a moment to look at the city beneath him. Tomorrow, he would be back in England, where Sirius and he were incredibly popular, and the anonymity they loved would be whisked away.

Harry could see a small park from the window, and Harry could see Sirius in the field. Sighing, he closed the curtains, and walked down the stairs, shutting the door behind him as he left. When rounding the corner of a building, Harry saw that Sirius was not alone in the field. Sitting on a bench was the man who had a arranged for their living arrangements. He was peeling an orange, and watching two dogs chase each other in circles. Harry approached the man, and sat down on the bench next to him

"Hello."

"We did not say good bye yesterday."

"Goodbye. Hello," Harry responded.

"Hello, I like your almost dog. He gets along well with Humphrey."

"I know, I'm having difficulty figuring out which one is smarter."

"Humphrey is clearly the more intelligent dog," the crazy man said solemnly.

"Which is a bit sad really."

The man shrugged. "Men make poor dogs, when they are trying. When they are not, that is when they succeed."

"Not a men are dogs."

"No, that much is true. You, for instance, would make a magnificent snake. Perhaps an extraordinary lion. Or a fantastic duck. Never underestimate the power of a good duck."

Harry didn't know what to say to that, there was meaning beyond the words the man spoke, and they were just beyond Harry's reach. The crazy man had finished peeling the orange, and Harry was amused to see that one of the pieces looked like Australian, and other looked like a lion. The man had always been that way, a little bizarre even for Harry, but he was well meaning. It was a surprise when the man found Harry and Sirius on their first night they arrived in Paris, even more so when the explained that he already rented rooms for them to stay for the rest of the month. It was uncertain as where he came up with the money, as he held no employment, but Harry learned to not question these things the first time he met him.

Sirius was wary at first, trusting him even after Harry explained that the man watched out for him when he lived in Paris. The suspicion dissipated quickly when he saw the man's dog, and shifting to his Animagi form held a conversation with it. Harry thought it said quite a lot of the Sirius' mental state that he got along so well with pets, and this thought was only further confirmed when Sirius explained that he made great friends with Crookshanks.

Harry had spent the early part of his summer with the Dursley's as usual, as they were still his family. Sirius had sent a small note to explain he would be picking him up on August The First, much to Harry's relief. His cousin had been put on a very strict diet and it made everyone irritable. Sirius had taken him to his house that day, explaining that was tired of Hogsmeade and London. He had spent a great deal of time in the public eye so people would become comfortable with him, and Harry could understand the urge to get away. He casually mentioned his previous living arrangements in France, and Sirius took to the idea with a fervor, arranging for their vacation the next day.

The trip had been a good idea, although it had gotten off to an awkward start, as Sirius asked him of their confrontation by the forest even before the soot of Floo Travel had been wiped off.

"You tried to kill me," he said with a conversational voice.

"No, I didn't."

"Don't lie. You put me in a Body Bind, and held a knife right up to my neck."

"I didn't try to kill you. If I did, I would have succeeded. I tried to get you Kissed," Harry hissed, his face flushing in admission. Black's face drained of blood.

"Why?" he whispered.

"Because I hated you, or the idea of you. As long as you were around, I would be trapped in a cage, people telling me that I needed to be locked up so I would be safe. If I met you at the beginning of the year, you would have been dead. But towards then end, the more I thought of you… the more I wanted revenge." Harry admitted. Black looked at Harry with haunted eyes, then nodded his head jerkily, and they dropped the subject.

It was a few days before the tension faded away, both members believing the matter was best left unspoken. It wasn't until they spent some time in a Wizarding Village famous for its enchanted wine, that the tension disappeared. The wines they sampled produced different results with various degrees of embarrassment. Harry and Sirius swore to each other that their tomfoolery would never be spoken of once the month passed. Sirius saw a witch he recognized from his Hogwarts days, and the wine encouraged him to spend the rest of his evening recalling his class schedule and every detention received, while another turned him purple.

Harry only tried one, and to his annoyance it made him speak in nothing buy rhymes for two days. He caught sight of Delirium several times when he was under its effects, although they never spoke directly to each other. She would be hiding under the seat of a large drunk man, tickling the man's foot with a fork, or Harry saw the back of her head on a street. There was a good side effect to the whole thing however, Harry and Sirius realized they shared an odd sort of camaraderie.

Sirius was haunted by his past in Azkaban, something that Harry could understand. He could even see the look of Despair in Sirius' eyes; it was a look that took Harry several years to fade. Because of this, Harry tried to provide the same guidance that his unnamed guardian had done when he was eight. He wasn't always successful, but it faded a little more each day. The challenge would be when Harry went to Hogwarts and Sirius was alone. Harry was hoping that Lupin would stop by every now and then and considered dropping him a note as a hint, as time was drawing short. Tomorrow they would be heading back to England for the Quidditch Cup and then he would be off to Hogwarts.

The sun was low in the sky and the two dogs trotted over.

"It's getting dark, I think its time for us to go home. Good day, Harry, until we meet again. Remember to wash your hands before eating." The crazy man who was sitting next to him did not open his mouth. Harry bent down and scratched behind Humphey's ears, and walked off, a large black dog trailing behind him.

The sun of Paris set, and in a few hours, a new day would begin.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Sirius Apparated Harry to the game shortly before it began. Salesman were already in full swing when they got to the larger campsites, they had traveled amongst the crowd, selling at various souvenirs. Undecided on both teams; Harry simply bought a pair of Omnoculars, as they looked incredibly useful beyond the Quidditch cup. During their wanderings they ended up meeting with the Weasleys and Ron proudly showed him to tiny model of Krum he bought. Mr. Weasley also offered a gracious invitation for Harry and Sirius to join them after the game. Agreeing, they heard a giant gong from the stadium, heading for the match.

The Quidditch Cup was fantastic. Sirius and Harry had managed to get seats near the top, but were not in the VIP booth with the Weasley's. The Minister had offered them seats, but Sirius claimed it was better to be in the crowds; he wasn't particularly keen on the idea of becoming close friends with Cornelius Fudge quite yet. Plus, there was more atmospheres in the crowd. Harry agreed he had already learned quite a few new swear words in several languages.

He really didn't support either country at the start, but as it progressed he found himself rooting for the Irish. They had the most cohesive team, and their Chasers were dominating the game. But the Bulgarian seeker was the most interesting player, and Harry hoped that he would catch the snitch. After a few feints, some injuries, and a few idiotic moments due to Veela exposure the game was over. (Harry found himself oddly immune to the Veela, while he could feel the gentle push to do something extraordinary, but really want to impress them.) They spent the evening celebrating Ireland's win with the Weasley's and half of the world. Harry explained to Ron and the others of some of their adventures in France, much to Sirius' indignation.

"I thought we swore never to speak of this Harry," Sirius scowled looking at George who was huddled on the floor in laughter.

"Yeah, once the month was over. And guess what? It's still August," Harry said slyly.

Sirius narrowed his eyes. "You're definitely belong in Slytherin. I'll have to remember that about you."

There was some extra room in the tents, and Mr. Weasley offered to let them stay the night. Sirius took up the offer shamelessly, drinking quite a bit more Firewhiskey than he would have if he had to Apparate them back. Harry ended up in a bed by Ron, and fell asleep quickly amongst the cheers of victorious Quidditch fans.

Harry woke up to the screaming, and he reached inside his pocket for his wand, even before he put on his glasses.

The light shone brightly in Sirius' face, who was already alert, all traces of firewhiskey gone from his system.

"Why are people screaming?" Harry asked, a sense of dread filling his system. Sirius shook his head.

"I don't know, but it sounds bad. Arthur! Wake UP!"

By then it was starting to get louder, and Sirius had popped his head out the tent to see what the commotion was. The inside of the tent lit and he could see grotesquely distorted shadows on the ground, Harry felt his stomach lurch.

"Sirus?" Arthur questioned, his voice steady but anxious.

"Muggle baiting, I think there are Death Eaters here. Perhaps a bit of a reunion?"

"I'll wake the others, we need to get them out of here. Harry would you go wake up the boys, I'll get Ginny and Hermione." Harry nodded, resisting the urge to check out the commotion for himself. There were plenty of Ministry workers at the game, surely they could do something. People were starting to leave in fear, and the elder Weasley went off to help the Muggles, sending Harry and the others to the forest with the crowd. Harry could see the Muggles floating in the air, and a dart of anger flowed through his veins. He was never really a fan of torture. Going over their to assist in the masked men's capture would be a foolish idea, but it didn't mean he couldn't fantasize about it.

The crowd was thick and panicky, and in his distraction he lost sight of some of the Weasley's, leaving him only with Ron and Hermione. They passed many people, some veela and goblins, and Draco, who said some rather degrading words about Hermione. Ron was furious, and claimed that Mr. Malfoy was probably one of the men torturing the Muggles for fun. Harry's own emotions were rather high now, and if he stuck around, it was entirely possible that Draco might not live the night. The only thing that kept Draco alive that night were the number of possible witnesses.

Instead, he focused his energy on ensuring the other two's safety, and dragged Ron away.

They traveled deeper and deeper in the forest, passing by large groups of people, in fearful panic. Harry was unimpressed, there were more of them there were Death Eaters, it would be easy to overwhelm them. He didn't understand what was the hold up.

"Ou est Madame Maxime? Nous l'avons perdue."

"Je ne sais pas." Harry responded.

Hermione looked at Harry with a gobsmacked expression, and Harry wished that Blaise was around.

"I didn't know you spoke French!" lifting her arm to bat away a branch.

"I do, it may not be the best, but I can manage. I did quite a bit of traveling when I was younger. I also can speak Russian, Japanese, and Portuguese. That's why I do so poorly in class; my education was sort of scrambled around, I never quite learned how to write properly in English," Harry muttered.

"We should stop here, any further and no one will be able to find us," Hermione said.

Harry frowned, it didn't feel like a particularly good spot, he could sense someone standing nearby, and his neck prickled.

"Who's there?" he asked.

And then, there was a voice that not panicked, but almost exultant.

"_Morsmordre!"_

And something green and glittering erupted nearby, and Harry could make out the shape of a man.

"Morsmordre? What in the world is that?" he asked Hermione. Her face had turned white with fear, but she did not answer, the forest had burst out in screams.

"We need to leave. Now! It's the Dark Mark, You-know-who's sign." Intrigued, Harry started to head towards the man, throwing a couple of rocks where he saw an outline. He heard something connect, but Hermione was pulling at his jacket, so he did not approach further. All around them popping noises appeared, and Harry could feel the oncoming outburst of spells that was about to hit them. Without pausing to think, he yelled, "DUCK!" and pulled them down to the ground.

"Stupefy!" roared twenty voices and blinding flashes lit the area. Harry recognized the curse from one of his Defense texts.

"Stop! That's my son!" he recognized the voice of Mr. Weasley "Ron, Harry Hermoine are you all right?"

"We're fine Mr. Weasley. Never underestimate the power of a good duck." Harry responded.

"Which one of you conjured the Dark Mark." A thin impeccably man asked next to Mr. Weasley, Harry thought he looked rather Muggle to be in the wood.

"Neither of us, there was a voice it came from over there."

The ministry workers began to head towards the area that Hermione pointed, Mr. Diggory disappeared in the darkness.

"Yes, we got them! It's… blimey…"

"You've got someone? Who is it?" Crouch called. Mr. Diggory came back, carrying a tiny, limp body. Harry recognized it as a house-elf. The ministry workers turned to Crouch, he had become very quiet, and then headed off towards the clearing to search the bushes himself.

"You don't think it was Crouch's elf do you? The Dark Mark requires a wand."

"She had a wand," said Mr. Diggory, raising one that was old and now broken. It looked familiar.

"Hey, that's mine! Or at least it was anyway." said Ron. Everyone looked at him.

"Excuse me?" said Mr. Diggory.

"I lost my wand when were leaving the campsite. Hey dad, does this mean I get a new one?" Ron asked hopefully.

"Later, Ron. You believe that the House-elf found the wand and then conjured the Dark Mark, Amos?"

"We'll find out. _Ennervate."_

The house elf woke up, trembling when she saw the crowd surrounding her and the sign glittering in the sky. Mr. Crouch had appeared once more, looking pale.

"Elf! Do you know who I am? I'm a member of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures! You were discovered with a wand in your hand where a Dark Mark was conjured moments later! An explanation, if you please!"

The house-elf was rocking back and forth now, and Harry was forcibly reminded of himself as a child.

"I is not conjuring the Dark Mark, Winky is not knowing how. I picked up the wand, sir. Not casting with it."

"It wasn't her!" said Hermione nervously. "The voice we heard was much deeper."

"It was a human voice," spoke up Ron.

"When the spell was cast, I saw someone because of the glow, and that someone was a person."

"Prior Incantanto." Roared Mr. Diggory, and the Dark Mark appeared once more from two wand tips, only an indistinct ghost of a spell. "Caught, red-handed, elf!"

The "interrogation" only proceeded to go downhill from there. Harry knew very little about house-elves, Sirius had only mentioned the barest of details of one named Kreacher. He also remembered that Dobby was rather weird, but he had a suspicion that it was actually normal for them to be that way. He felt a pang of pity for them as Mr. Weasley led them away from the woods.

Sirius was at the edge of the forest in discussion with a tall man dressed in dark blue robes. There was a small crowd behind them, a few of them looked like reporters. There was a large burst flicker of light when Harry emerged from the forest, and he realized that they were taking pictures of _him_. He cursed his fame.

Sirius marched forward, placing his arm on Harry's shoulder.

"We're Apparating out of here now, there's too many people. Hold onto my arm." Harry gripped his arm, catching a glint of a violent green quill coming their direction before pressure filled his lungs and they disappeared.

"Urgh… That was Apparating? I almost prefer Floo Travel." Harry muttered, rubbing his chest.

"You get used to it. Harry, we need to talk." Sirius said, walking to the kitchen.

"About what?" Harry question, watching Sirius prepare some tea. He sighed.

"We need to talk about Voldemort's rise to power." he said grimly, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm your godfather, it's my job to protect you. It's why I broke out of Azkaban, I saw Pettigrew in a newspaper, and I knew he was there at Hogwarts. I knew I had to leave and it cleared my mind, and gave me focus to leave the prison. I ended up at Hogwarts and I was ready to kill that rat, and I had a plan to break in."

"But then I saw you after your visit to Hogsmeade, do you remember? And I saw you were in Slytherin. You have no idea what a relief that was, that you were in Slytherin. During my school days, I hated Slytherin, and you know why? Because they weren't nice people. They like hexing people, and it was so hard to get them in trouble, they always managed to slip out of it. I knew there was a good chance that you could care of yourself and that you weren't in the same dorm as the rat was a great relief to me, so much that I held off on my attempt." Sirius rubbed his eyes, "Looking back on it now, I feel at bit stupid, it would have been impossible for me to break into Gryffindor tower."

"And when I saw the Dark Mark rise tonight, I was worried about you. But when you came out of the forest, and you were calmer than the Aurors, and the Ministry heads, and you looked like you were trying to figure a puzzle out. It reminded me of the forest, and how...calm you were. I did managed to steal some copies of the Daily Prophet when I was in hiding, and I heard quite few people talk about me, they were all scared. But you didn't hesitate in attacking me, and you pressed your advantage, I don't think I had opened my eyes yet and I found myself on the ground."

"You looked just as calm today, and I realized something. I can't protect you can I? You've already grown up." Sirius asked, focusing on a cup he removed from a cupboard.

"It's a bit late for that, yes." Harry admitted. Sirius nodded.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I don't ask you about Azkaban," Harry replied. "But its safe to say I was in a prison of my own." There was a heavy silence, and both prisoners felt the weight of their pasts. It was as sore spot for Harry that he nearly punished Sirius for being innocent. Couple that with the Ginny incident, and it made two people he nearly killed because he was hasty. Harry did pride himself on perfection, and that would have ruined his record. Sirius cleared his voice, and set his cup back down.

"I spoke with an Auror after the attack. He told me that Pettigrew was given the Kiss last week, we don't have to worry about him anymore. One down, ninety-nine to go," he said.

Harry gave a small smile. "How many do you want?"

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

In Desire's realm of wanting, you are the doll, and you bend to her will. And now she (or he) had grown impatient. Desire does not always get what he (or she) wants, but he is not worried about pesky things like respect or morals. Being the only one of the Endless locked out of the boy's life is insulting, and steps are already in place to change it.

Desire wants Harry Potter back.


	24. Ch 22 The Third Unforgivable?

**Chapter 22**

**The Third Unforgivable?**

* * *

_**"...next thing you're going to be moaning that I ought to get a scythe..."**_

Death in _Season of Mists_

* * *

The train ride back to Hogwarts was uneventful this year, something Harry was grateful for. There were murmurs on the train of some sort of secret. Plenty of people had parents working in the Ministry of Magic, but had refused to spoil the secret to their children. As a result most of them spent the time guessing what it was.

Harry took a seat next to Daphne during the Welcoming Feast. They were rather enjoying their time, feeling content and full after another delicious meal.

When they finished their meal, Dumbledore stood up, and pointed to the scarred man who was sitting to his right.

"I would like to present to you our newest Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Professor Alastor Moody." The man gave a small wave from the table, he's magical eyeball whizzing across the room. "Professor Moody would like to advise every student that his eye is enchanted to see through certain objects, so it is highly recommended that you not bring inappropriate materials to his class."

"Mad-Eye Moody, eh? That's the best the Muggle-lover could come up with. An old paranoid Auror he can barely walk down a street without jumping at his shadow." Draco said.

"I would also like to inform the school that there will not be any Quidditch as this year Hogwarts has been elected to host the Triwizard Tournament." The school burst out in exclamations. A few minutes later and with that final announcement Dumbledore dismissed them.

For the first time ever, Harry wasn't behind in class. It was amazing. Casting magic was easy now; when he first started he was inhibited by his wariness of magic, as he hadn't really preformed any accidental magic as a child and his unfamiliarity towards wands. That gradually eased, only to loose his memories, then he lost focus easily. By now he had reviewed the spells so often now that he could draw the Transfiguration diagrams in his sleep. His essay writing wasn't so bad either, and although he wasn't top of the class, Harry found himself with a considerable amount of free time.

The only class that he had trouble in was Arithmacy, and he doubted that it was one he would ever be able to understand easily. He understood that there was power in stories, ideas, and names, so it shouldn't have been such a surprise that it was the same with numbers. It didn't make it any easier to learn though.

In fact, Harry even managed to do a partial Transfiguration in his class, which was a first. Hagrid introduced the wonder that was the Blast-Ended Skrewt, and Harry wished he let the hippogriff die. Maybe the man would have been to busy mourning to come up with such a horrible idea.

It wasn't until the end of the week that the fourth years had Defense Against the Dark Arts. Many of the other years had spoken of Moody in reverent tones, and Harry found himself curious despite it all. Moody's name had shown up in several of the books that Harry glossed over when learning about the first war after Sirius' escape. He sat in the second row in the center of the room, Blaise and Daphne on either side of him. Moody was looking and them with mismatched eyes, but they were far from the lovely gaze of Delirium. Moody glared at them from his seat and then spoke with a gruff voice.

"I've spoken to the other fourth year classes, and I'll tell you what I've told them. Lupin did a good job last year, but it doesn't change that you know practically nothing about curses. The sooner you learn about them the better, so that's what we'll be studying this year. So can any of you tell me about the Unforgivable Curses?" Several hands raised at his question, and Moody pointed to Theodore Nott.

"The Imperious Curse is a curse that gives the caster total control over the subject," he said smoothly. Moody nodded, opening a jar he had at his desk that contained a spider and cast the curse upon it. The entire room was silent was Moody made it do a series of tricks, although some of the students had smirks on their faces. Harry was far from amused; he had spent enough time doing things he hadn't wanted as a child, he would never allow that to happen again.

"It's good that some of you understand that this is not a laughing matter. The Gryffindor class found this demonstration amusing, and it took some further explanation to impress how tricky this spell can be. It was a hard time for the Ministry to figure out who was under the curse and who was not a few years ago. Anyone else?" Daphne spoke up next her voice sharp and clear.

"The Cruciatus Curse gives the recipient pain, and only pain." Moody was already opening the jar and he enlarged the spider. When he cast the spell, the spider twitched, rocked back and forth, and spasmed. Harry couldn't take his eyes off of it, the pain was so obvious, and he wondered how easy it would be to cast it.

_Death walked down the halls of Hogwarts school._

"And the last spell?" Moody asked looking around, Draco spoke up.

"The Killing Curse, _Avada Kedavra_," he turned to look at Harry when he said this, anticipating Harry's reaction. Harry hadn't noticed, he had heard something that caught his attention, a flutter of wings, or perhaps it was his own heart in his ears. Turning his head slightly he saw what had caused the noise, it was a woman.

_Sometimes the clothes would change in order to make others more comfortable. It wasn't often that she wore ties though, but she noticed it was striped black and purple, and she thought it looked rather nice. Maybe she would keep it._

She was making her way to the front of the classroom, and passed right by Moody, and sat on his desk. The professor didn't say anything, it seemed as if he couldn't see her at reached in his jar for the last spider.

Harry saw green in his eyes that no one else could.

Moody placed the spider on the desk next to her.

_His hand was shaking as he aimed the wand, the harsh voice in which he spoke hiding his trepidation, and then her hand bent down…_

"_Aveda Kedavra_!" Moody barked.

Blinding light came out from his wand, and the sound of wings filled Harry's ears once more.

_It seemed quite silly really, to kill a spider for a demonstration. _

And then there were two spiders, one lay flat on the desk, whole but dead. The other was gently held in the woman's hands, and there was a soft look on her face.

"There's no counter-curse, and there's only one person whose has survived it, and I doubt even Potter knows how that's happened." Then entire class turned to look at Harry, including Moody but Harry wouldn't rise to the attention, he was more interested in the woman.

_She laughed, sharing the private joke of her existence with him._

And for the one second their eyes met, Harry felt his heart stop beating, and he forgot that he was supposed to be breathing. Harry felt as if he could spend the rest of eternity just looking into her eyes.

_Destiny had said that he would conquer, and it was true. The Endless had given him too much power; she could see that just by looking at Harry. The last person who had become so involved with the Endless ended up meddling too much and killing Despair, causing the current manifestation to appear._

She stood from the desk, and Harry did as well, his chair making a loud scraping noise across the floor. She gave him a small smile, winked, and faded away, taking the spider with her.

_It was too soon to act yet. But she would have to keep an eye on him._

Harry's stomach lurched; he recognized that wink. The moment was gone and Harry began to breath again, and the importance of the moment settled on him. Taking a few hasty steps back, he could still see the spider at the desk, the rest of the class was watching him, and Moody was looking at him a piercing look on his face. So Harry turned and ran out the room.

The hallways were empty as classes were still in session, so no one saw Harry run outside. He knew by dinner time came around he would be the gossip of the school, most people believing he became upset by the curse. It was a logical explanation, but it was wrong. Harry had recognized the woman in the room as Death, and he was the only one who had seen her.

He had met The Endless many times before, but most of the time it was when he journeyed to their realms. They were powerful, and didn't really bother making connections with actual people. Harry only knew of them so well because he had spent so much time in their realms as a child. But despite all of the people that Harry had killed when he was younger, she had never appeared before.

He recognized her now as the woman who winked at him when he received his wand. It was clear she was keeping an eye on him, and that was an astonishing thought. What had had done to deserve her attention?

Harry flopped himself on the ground by the lake, and took off his glasses. Dipping his hands into to water, he splashed it on his face, and dried his face off with a cloth in his pocket. He could feel the faint brush of her fingertips across his forehead, a thirteen year old phantom sensation. Harry wasn't afraid of Death, not one bit. The others didn't know of the kindness of her eyes, didn't hear the sound of her approach or her gentle laugh. So he had to run away from the classroom because he was the only one who understood the gravity of the moment.

He wasn't looking forward to dinner. No doubt Draco would have something to say, Harry noticed as Draco got older he stopped being annoying and started being hateful. He mulled over his options as he sat on the grass when he heard laughter. Turning his head he saw the Weasley twins approaching, they were carrying their brooms with them.

"Harry what are you doing out here? Shouldn't you be having class now?" George questioned

"Skipping class."

"Brilliant." Fred replied. "We're off for a fly, we have the rest of the afternoon off, we're N.E.W.T student's now." They turned to walk away when Harry was hit by inspiration.

"Hey, you two, you know where the kitchens are?" Stopping they turned to look at Harry, and shrugged.

"Yeah, we do. We'll show you were they are after we fly," replied Fred and hurried to catch up with George.

Harry nodded followed them out, wishing he had the presence of mind to bring his own broomstick. And then he would have been able to fly high in the air, with the wind blowing in his face, dip, dive, and let go and tumble to the ground and see her again...

Harry took a shook his head; he mustn't let his imaginings get a hold of him like that. Frustrated, annoyed, and shaken, Harry took off for the Quidditch Pitch in a run. Getting out some energy would ensure that he didn't snap at the others in the common room, and maybe he could plan how he could save his dignity.

The Weasley's came down after an hour, and Harry had burnt out his energy, sprawled out on the ground ignoring the grumbles of his stomach. They entered the castle, heading for a staircase to the right and going down. A few turns and they ended up in front of a portrait of fruit.

"Harry Potter, we would like to present to you the Hogwarts' kitchens and the lovely house-elves that serve us." Fred said with a flourish, turning the pear-handle. Entering, Harry saw them, all wearing clean outfits and rushing over to feed them. One minute later they were munching on sandwiches and talking.

"So how did you find the kitchen's anyway?" Harry asked, swirling the pumpkin juice. Harry had done quite a bit of exploring of Hogwarts passages, but he had a feeling the twins knew more. Knowing some of their secrets couldn't hurt. "Ron tells me that you know this school better than anyone."

A little pandering also couldn't hurt.

"Oh, that? We discovered the kitchens a long time ago when we were innocent, little first years." Fred said with a careless wave of his hands. "No the real secret of success is due to something else. Should we show him?" He turned to George, who was appraising Harry.

"Yeah, I think we can. He did skive off class, and we see him all the time in detention. Harry seems like an honorable scoundrel." He reached into his robes, pulled out an old piece of parchment, and said the magic words.

"_I solemnly swear I'm up to no good_." Harry sucked in his breath as lines scrawled on the paper, and Hogwarts' secrets appeared before his eyes.

"We stole this from Filch when after setting off some dung-bombs. We got detentions for a week, but it was well worth it. We've managed to use secret passages to Hogsmeade that not even Filch knows about." Fred patted the paper fondly. He handed the paper over to Harry and he got a good look at the maker's names. Withdrawing his wand, he placed it on the map.

"Mischief managed." The paper blanked and Harry strove to keep the smirk off his face as he looked at the astonished faces of George and Fred. "I'll be keeping this, you two each owe me a favor and I'm calling it in now. One is for showing me the kitchens and one is the map," he informed them. He tucked it in his pocket and stuffed the rest of his sandwich in his mouth, heading for the exit. Fred's face was torn between annoyed and impressed; he realized Harry had played them.

"Wait a minute, how did you…" George sputtered.

"My dad was Prongs. Good day gentleman, it was a pleasure having dinner with you."

As he walked back to the Slytherin Common Room he was in lighter spirits. Sirius had told him about the map during the enchanted wine period, as it had played a significant role in many of their stories. Intrigued, Harry had asked about details, only to be disappointed to find out it had been destroyed by the caretaker, apparently Sirius was wrong.

It had been a productive day, Harry discovered secrets, learned of an enemy, and met Death. Exhausted, he went to his bed for some sleep, ignoring the mutterings of his housemates, and the mocking laughter of Draco in the corner.

* * *


	25. Ch 23, The Four Houses of Success

**Chapter 23**

**The Four Houses of Success**

* * *

_**I know lots of things. People think I don't but I really do. I know more about us than any of us. That's just one of the things I know.**_

Delirium in _The Kindly Ones_

* * *

It took some time for the muttering of Harry's exit in class to die down, and it wasn't until the announcement of Beauxbatons and Durmstrangs arrival did people stop shooting him curious looks. The class Harry had right before their arrival was Defense, in which Moody was planning to cast the Imperious curse on them. Harry was a bit nervous, letting someone hex him was against all of his instincts. He was quite relieved to see a faint orange color light appear as he was looking at the end of Moody's wand, he could use a friend.

"_Imperio_."

Delirium was hanging from the chandelier by one leg; wearing a large shirt that was patterned with pink elephants. How long she had been there, he didn't know, maybe the entire class. She was clutching her necklace in her hands tightly, opting to give him a wave with her foot. "Hello, Harry!" she called; wiggling her toes in his direction.

_Spin around and do a cartwheel_, an unfamiliar but insistent voice called. Harry could have resisted, but he liked Delirium. So he twirled, and she laughed.

"Oohh. Are you dancing for me? But I didn't bring you anything." She scrunched her face. "You like secrets, I think I'll tell you one, I know lots of them. I tell you the secret about girls, and panthers, and cotton candy, and Floyd."

"_Floyd_?" a small voice in Harry's mind questioned, midway through to do his cartwheel.

"Yes, Floyd. The truth is that it's not a secret, because Floyd told everyone. He told everyone before he sent his postcard, and the animals came, and he built his wall. It's about the **other** things. Not about what you will, but what you _could_."

Moody released the Imperious curse, and Delirium faded away.

"Potter, you aren't even trying to resist the curse! This could be the matter of life and death! Let's try it again, and this time, don't act as if you like being a dancer."

Harry was put under the curse once more and he could hear Del singing,

"I've always been mad, I know I've been mad, like the  
most of us have...very hard to explain why you're mad, even if you're not mad..."

It was an odd little tune, catchy in all of the wrong ways. It had the ability of crawling into one's head despite its lack cohesion or musical sensibilities. He heard her voice, and staunchly ignored the order that Moody was giving him, because the song felt more important. The curse lifted, and Delirium disappeared from his sight again.

"Did you see that? Potter was resisting it! They'll have a hard time putting you under the curse. Miss Greengrass, you are up next."

Her voice stuck in his head even after the lesson ended, echoed in his mind as he watched the delegations arrive, and only left his mind when Dumbledore stood up.

"I would like to take the opportunity to introduce the judges for the Tournament. An additional two from our own British Ministry of Magic will be Ludo Bagman, from the Department of Games, and Bartimus Crouch, the Head of the Department of Magical Cooperation." Everyone in the school clapped in support and excitement except Harry, who had accidentally inhaled a bit of pumpkin juice.

He shock was because Bagman and Crouch had inexplicably lit with a soft pink aura. It was the same he had seen on Ginny years previous.

_'What the hell?'_

He had forgotten about that color, whether it was by intention, or accident, didn't matter. The soul mate idea was wrong, that much was now clear. Perhaps he had jumped to the easy conclusion; maybe it just had to do with _souls_. There was some sort of trait shared by Ginny and both of these men, but it wasn't coming to him yet.

His mind felt very full as he went back to the dungeons, Delirium had probably given him the answers.

It was a pity he couldn't understand what she meant.

Harry awoke the next morning for his usual run in the school, his usual path faced new obstacles, as he wasn't the only student up early. There was a considerable crowd gathered in the Entrance Hall, watching for who would place their names in the Goblet of Fire. The Beauxbaton's delegation entered as he leaned against the wall, abandoning his traditional run for the day. He watched them plop their names in the Goblet, a blue flame rising with each name accepted. There was a small crowd gathered now, and he recognized the familiar hair of George and Fred approach to goblet. Their attempt to outsmart the age line was unsuccessful, and Harry burst out in laughter when he saw their beards. He followed them up to the Hospital Wing.

"Hey, you two, you did it all wrong." Fred, George, and their friend all turned around.

"What do you mean?" said the unknown Gryffindor.

"There's ways around _everything_. And like the four houses, there's four ways of beating the Age Line. You've tried the Gryffindor way, the direct approach, and you failed spectacularly, so I'll enlighten you on the other ways. The Ravenclaw way would be to outsmart the Age Line, by testing the boundaries, finding its limitations, and eliminating it."

"Nah, too much work, and that would allow anyone to put their name in," said Fred, twirling his beard in his fingers.

"The Hufflepuff way, would be to accept the rules, and cheer on the member of the school who is picked."

"Why would we want that?" George quipped, and his friend nodded seriously next to him.

"The last way would be the Slytherin way." Harry paused, and he could see the three of them lean in with anticipation.

"Well, get on with it then!" cried Fred.

"The last way would be to get someone to do it for you," Harry said with a smirk, glancing at their dumbstruck faces. He turned his back to them, tossing them a goodbye with his hand, heading downstairs for breakfast.

When Harry was a dinner he saw George give him a thumbs up and knew that they had successfully managed to convince an older student to put their names in the Goblet. Warrington had put his name in, but Harry didn't believe he would be chosen as The Champion of Hogwarts. The title carried its own weight; maybe its own magic, and Harry believed that Warrington spent too much time hexing younger years to claim it. Beuxbaton's Champion was Fleur Delacour and Durmstrang had famous seeker Victor Krum. As much as Harry hoped that Fred or George were picked, (the chaos that would come of it would only be too enjoyable) he found it unlikely. So when Harry heard Cedric Diggory's name called he gave a healthy cheer.

"A Hufflepuff?" Daphne asked with surprise.

"Eh, it makes some sense Daphne. He's quite popular in Hufflepuff," said Blaise. This year Blaise had made it his business to know other people's business. He called himself well connected, Harry called him a gossip.

The school grew silent when The Goblet lit up again, and Harry's eyes exploded in color, green, pink, red, maybe all of them lit up. He clutched his forehead, squeezing his eyes tightly. He didn't see the paper rise from the Goblet to know his name was called, but Dumbledore's voice calling his name made it real.

He looked at the students on either side of him, Daphne's mouth was wide open, with the serene calm she always carried was broken. Blaise looked like he had been punched, and Draco was giving him a look of extreme envy.

"Harry Potter, if you will make your way to the antechamber."

"No, I will not!" He said. (_This wasn't happening to him, this wasn't happening to him, this wasn't happening, this wasn't….)_

"This is happening to Harry Potter, they called his name. If you aren't

Harry Potter can you go away? I'm sure he would like his body back."

Delirium's disembodied voice called.

It sounded as if she were talking very far away, and it was only the smooth surface of a lake that carried her words.

"Mr. Potter, this is not up for discussion," Dumbledore said with a bite of impatience. Taking a deep breath, Harry calmed himself down, and walked over to the room, trying not to snap at the mutterings of the school. He opened the door, and the three champions turned to face him

"What is it? Do zey want us back in ze Hall?" Fleur Delacour asked.

"Somebody put my name in the cup, I was picked." Harry said, and he noticed his hands were shaking, but he was uncertain if it was from fear or anger.

In the Great Hall, Delirium was sitting at the Head Table. She was reading the story

written in Hagrid's beard, and singing the song of answers.

"The lunatic is on the grass.  
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs.  
Got to keep the loonies on the **path**. "

She followed the teachers that went off to talk to the Champions, she wondered how Harry was doing. He was probably having a bad day. She had lots of bad days too. She would sing a song to cheer him up.

Bagman entered the Hall and made to grab Harry's arm to pull him forward. Harry evade his grasp, giving him a glare and marched forward. Bagman recovered and jubilantly explained of Harry's unexpected participation in the Tournament, the three champion's faces growing sour when they realized it wasn't a joke.

"Zey are saying zis little boy is to compete also!" Fleur said with a hint of disdain when Madame Maxine came in. Harry's anger erupted, already thin from the shock.

"Don't you DARE call me a little boy. I haven't been that in a long time." He snapped. Fleur gave him a haughty look. The teacher's began to discuss their options, with Dumbledore approaching Harry.

"Did you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

"No." Harry said vehemently ignoring Snape's noise of disbelief.

"Did you ask an older student to put it into the Goblet of Fire for you?" Harry opened his mouth, to deny it, before pausing. He didn't know if Fred and George had put his name in, thinking they did him a favor.

"Ah, Dumbledore, I think I sense some guilt." Karkaroff said victoriously.

"I didn't ask anyone to do it. I will admit that I told Fred and George they could get around the Age Line that way though. Whether they put my name in the Goblet that without my consent is another matter." Harry admitted.

"They didn't." Cedric spoke up. "The Weasleys and Jordan approached me on putting their names in the cup this afternoon on the grounds that it wasn't fair. I could participate and they couldn't even though we are in the same year." Professor McGonagall gave Cedric a stern glance and he continued. "I put their names in, and Potter's wasn't on it. But it's strange that Harry's name came out like there was a fourth school."

"Very good Diggory," Moody gruffed. "It would take an exceptionally strong Confundus Charm to bamboozle that goblet into forgetting that only three schools compete in the tournament…I'm guessing they submitted Potter's name under a fourth school, to make sure he was the only one in his category…"

"You seem to have given this a great deal of thought, Moody," said Karkaroff coldly.

"It doesn't take a great deal of thought Karkaroff, just a little bit of brains. Potter doesn't have the skill, he spent most of last year in recover from a memory charm. He's not bad now, but outsmarting older, talented wizards like ourselves, I don't think so." Moody replied

"What**ev**er. How do I get out of this? Can I sign some sort of paper to forfeit?" Harry asked trying to keep the note of desperation from his voice. He was vaguely aware that Delirium was in the room also, and her singing voice chilled him.

"Breath, breathe in the air

Don't be afraid to **care**.

Leave, but don't leave **me**.

Look around and **choose** your own ground"

Mr. Crouch, spoke up for the first time, the dark shadows under his eyes making him look ill. "The Goblet of Fire makes a magically binding contract, if you don't compete you will die." He said. Harry sighed, he was afraid Crouch was going to say that.

"_And _**balanced** _on the biggest wave_

_You race towards an early __**grave**__._"

The others did not look surprised; they must have gotten a debriefing in class before they entered.

"He must participate, I suggest we accept this as soon as possible so we can get on with formalities. The first task is designed to test your daring…" Crouch continued. Delirium gave Harry a small wave, and then she left out the door. Harry resisted the urge to chase her down, he was barely hanging onto his anger and fear. Talking to her would make him loose the control he held, and with this unexpected task, he would need all the control he could get. He listened intently to Crouch gave him, the best way around the rules was to know them in the first place. Cedric and Harry left together to their respective rooms when they were dismissed.

"So, we're playing against each other!" Cedric said, with a slight smile. Harry shook his head.

"No, you're the Hogwart's Champion. I'll be in the Tournament, and compete in the tasks, but I'm not going to put much effort in it. I didn't want to be in it anyway." He shrugged. "George gave me a thumbs up before dinner, I didn't think it was you that put his name in the Goblet though." Harry snorted.

"What was that for?" Cedric asked suspiciously. They had stopped at the stairs that separated the path to each common room.

"Oh, the irony. You placing their names in the Goblet just proves why you were chosen as champion, and that they wouldn't be. You gave them an opportunity, you accepted their challenge, and by doing that, you probably blew the competition out of the water. Maybe if you hadn't placed their names in, someone else would have been picked."

"Or perhaps I have it wrong. Maybe it doesn't matter, and you would have been picked either way. Maybe the choice doesn't matter, just the person you are. And the person you are, makes the choices." Harry mused. Cedric looked at him with his brow furrowed.

"You've given this a lot of thought," he said slowly. Harry shook his head.

"Nah, I've just read a lot of myths. After a while, you start to notice the patterns in the stories." He walked back to the Slytherin Dungeons, leaving Cedric mystified behind him.

He went down the stairs to the dungeons in silence, deep in thought. He was now in the Triwizard Tournament. He had looked forward to watching the others perform like little trained monkeys on a bicycle and now he was one of the monkeys. How annoying.

Rubbing his eyes, he paused before the blank wall that served as the entrance to the Common Room. How would he act? He could act as if he had actually put his name in the cup, taking the glory for Slytherin. It would certainly put him in high favor in the house; it might also impress some of the older students, who had always viewed him as some sort of horrible mistake. On the other hand, Warrington might just give him trouble over the issue, and the last thing Harry needed was more attention. Not to mention that he already told Cedric he wasn't actually competing, when he lost people would hate him for it. It was best to let them know now, save him the trouble later.

Saying the password, he entered the Common Room, finding all of Slytherin House waiting for him. A wireless had been set up in the corner, and a massive banner of the house shield had been pinned against the wall, and there were small, multicolored packages dotting the entire floor. They burst out in applause when they caught sight of Harry, and he saw a first year nearby pull a long string that was attached to the packages on the floor. The packages burst open with a hissing noise and they reveal decorations of balloons and confetti. Blaise and Daphne walked forward.

"You! You! How did you do it?" Blaise asked with an eager tone.

"I didn't," Harry said, batting away a large, black balloon that erupted from under his foot. "What the hell are these things?" he asked.

"Merrymaking Mylars, they're self-inflating balloons for the party, and stop trying to change the subject. How did you get your name in the cup then?" Blaised hissed.

"Someone Confunded the cup and put my name in for a fourth house," Harry replied, looking across the room. There were several large seventh years that coming his way, some with challenging looks, some with narrowed eyes, and some with genuine approval.

"Nice one, Potter. Stealing the glory from Hufflepuff, it just proves that Slytherin is the best house of all," one said, who Harry vaguely recognized as a member of the Quidditch team.

"Er, yes I would like to explain that. I didn't put my name in the cup."

"Come on now, you can tell us the truth," the seventh year said attempting to pull Harry close to him by swinging his arm on Harry's shoulders. Harry smoothly dipped under the arm, shooting the older student a glare.

"I am telling the truth. And don't touch me like I'm your friend when I've never even spoken to you before. I didn't put my name in the cup, whether you believe it or not is your prerogative."

There were quite a few people looking at him with disbelief on the faces. Oh well, its not as if ever cared much for their opinion anyway, opinions could be manipulated. Shrugging, he signaled to Blaise and Daphne. They walked over to the corner of the room, while the others proceeded to celebrate to victory of Slytherin. Daphne looked at him with keen eyes in silence, while Blaise sipped his butterbeer patiently, when Harry finally got impatient with the silence, it had been a long day.

"What?"

"You really didn't put your name in the cup. I noticed that you have a pattern when answering personal questions. For instance, when the answer is yes, you don't tell me outright, just vague replies that infuriate me. When the answer is no, you often use misdirection, sometimes changing the subject, asking your own question in return or leaving out information. You rarely lie. It's only when you are completely serious that you say something outright." Daphne replied.

"Ah, the Greengrass family trait, observing you to death," Blaise joked.

"Well, I'm glad you believe me. I probably won't be too popular these coming weeks." Harry said with a sigh.

The next day there was a considerable debate among the school on if Harry put his name in the Goblet or not. The older years, unfamiliar with Harry, and a little bit jealous, claimed that he did. The younger years did not, as they had seen his struggles the previous year, and thought it unlikely that he was able to out-magic Dumbledore. His friends had stood by him, although the Hufflepuffs were a bit disgruntled towards him.

It was the day that Harry met with the press for the first time that he realized that things would not be as smooth as he hoped. The woman who interviewed the Champions was incredibly nosy, and Harry unhappy with his insisted involvement, refused to give her any substantial quotes.

To his horror, _The Daily Prophet_ interview was front page, and the reporter called him, "a frightened child, too nervous to give more than one responses. The tragic boy hero, thrust into a role meant for those with substantial magical education, now must participate because of a clerical error."

Harry looked at the name of the reporter: Rita Skeeter. He put his head in his hands as he recognized the name, she was the reporter he had gotten a glimpse of the night of the Quidditch Cup. The fallout from her article was substantial, it was a pity he hadn't paid attention to her name. It would pay to be more careful when he met her in the future. Fortunately, that she bought the "clerical error" excuse that he gave her.

The article dampened some of the animosity towards him, although Harry had to now deal with sympathetic looks from seventh year females attempting to mother him. The constant attention made him irritable. He couldn't wait for the twenty-fourth, when they would become more interested in Cedric.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Destiny stood in his garden, walking down a particularly twisting path, and turned a page in the book in front of him.

"_Potter's in the Tournament, just like we planned. But right now he seems to be giving Diggory his due. He's not interested in winning the Tournament, how do we change this?"_

"_Slytherin is the house of ambition. Let him fail, the embarrassment he will suffer will be enough to encourage him to put more effort into winning," a voice replied. "He will take the steps necessary on his own."_

Destiny read this despite his blind eyes, silently approving of the actions taking place.


	26. Ch 24 The First Task

**Chapter Twenty Four**

**The First Task**

* * *

"_**And what do I define in this theory of yours?" asked Dream.**_

"**Reality, Perhaps," replied Destruction.**

_From Brief Lives_

* * *

The school was buzzing with the approach of the first task. Harry felt more detached than ever during this time, he knew that there wasn't really anything he could do to prepare for it. And he also knew that his instincts were sharp, and that he was very good at coming up with sudden inspiration, which is all he really needed. On the other hand, less than half of his magical schooling was complete and he was an average student, the odds were not in his favor.

He thought the nervous energy in the air gave him a bizarre sort of focus. It was an odd thought, but then again, Harry wasn't entirely sane. Charms class introduced the _Accio _Summoning charm, which Harry had great success with. And Harry found that Moody's class was a great distraction from the numerous mutter's and darting glances, as Moody would hex people's ears during lectures. So it was with great relief to Harry that the twenty-fourth arrived.

Professor McGonagall pulled him out of the Great Hall early, and guided him to a tent off to the side.

"You're to go in here with the other champions and wait for your turn, Mr. Potter. Mr. Bagman will be telling you the procedure. Good luck," McGonagall said in a shaky voice. Harry felt a prickle of apprehension; her nerves were a bad omen, though he tried to give her a reassuring grin.

"Thank you. You know what they say; 'desperate people do desperate things.' I hope it doesn't come to that." McGonagall gave him a long look, then nodded and wobbled off.

The other champions were already inside, all three of them looking spectacularly unhappy. Cedric looked ill, Fleur was pale, and Krum was surly. Oddly enough, their misery made Harry feel relaxed, as he didn't have anything to prove to anyone. In fact, Harry was thinking that he might just twist the competition around and try to fail spectacularly. He gave a cheery wave to Bagman, whose old Wasp robes stood out against the pale-faced champions.

Bagman waved him over and explained the rules.

"And I have to tell you something else too…ah, yes… your task is to collect the _golden egg_!"

Harry frowned. In some fairy tales, there would be a goose that could lay golden eggs, these stories were often lessons in greed. He could do that; he wasn't a very greedy person. In fact, one could even say Harry didn't desire anything at all. Bagman signaled for Fleur dip her hand in the bag first, and Harry swore loudly when he saw what was in her hands, it was a miniature dragon. Krum grunted, and Fleur gave him a look of disdain, while Cedric said nothing.

Harry dimly registered that he was the only one worried about the dragons, before shoving that thought aside. He shut his eyes tightly at his mistake; he had to wrong idea. Everything seemed to be going for him wrong these days. In _mythology_, there were golden _apples_, and heroes were challenged to retrieved them, displaying wit and bravery, the very things Crouch had warned them this task would focus on. Harry withdrew his model, and noted with resignation, the particularly sharp spikes on its tail.

**Oh god**, he wouldn't even have to try to fail spectacularly.

"Mr. Digorry, you're first, just go out when you hear a whistle, all right? Now… Harry… could I have a quick world? Outside?"

"Er… yes," said Harry, trying to remember all the myths he had read about dragons. So far, the overwhelming connection was the hero chopping off the dragon's head with a sword.

"Feeling all right, Harry?" Anything I can get you?"

"What?" said Harry, the question had knocked him out of his daze. Champions were forbidden from receiving help; surely Bagman knew that. "I- no, unless you know where I can get a sword somewhere?"

Bagman blinked. "Well, there's swords at the castle, but you don't have to kill the dragon, Harry. Just get past it. You're the last one up, and the underdog, I don't mind sharing a few pointers. No one would know, Harry." Bagman winked, and Harry frowned, this man acted far to friendly with him, it was extremely irritating.

"If you'll excuse me, I have the finer details of my plan to work out." Harry said shortly, entering the tent once more. His heart was pounding in his chest; he hadn't the faintest idea how he was going to do this. He looked at his fellow champions, and noticed the determination lined on their faces, and felt indignation crawl in his stomach as pieces of the puzzle clicked.

They hadn't been caught by surprise because they already _knew_.

He marched over to Cedric, knowing that his Hufflepuff tendencies would probably bend the easiest , they did represent the same school after all.

"You knew. You knew that we were facing bloody dragons, and you didn't say a thing!" he hissed. "The first task was supposed to be about bravery and intuition, and you all knew beforehand!" Cedric looked up, startled and guilty, but the other two champions had unapologetic looks. "You know, I was going to participate in the tasks, but I wasn't going to try to win. This was your show, _your_ honor. I might not have cared before, but I do now. Congratulations, you now have new competition." Harry heard a whistle blow, and Cedric walk out of the tent. Krum grunted narrowing his eyes at Harry, while Fleur just gave a derisive laugh.

"You only 'ave a few minutes to plan for zis task, good luck to you," she said sweetly. Harry gave her a glare as he exited the tent, and broke out in a full run back to the castle.

Some of the school thought he put his name in the cup. Fine.

They said he had to compete. Fine.

But finding out that the other champions already knew, and he was the only one really tested, after he was so gracious. Now that just made him mad.

He hadn't been angry in a long time, the meditation that he practiced so often kept him calm. They had been lucky, and Harry hadn't practiced any of the magic he had learned as a child. It was the magic of intuition and time. He wasn't lying to McGonagall when he said he never practiced accidental magic as a child, because all of it had been intentional.

But now he was feeling reckless, and he found his concentration slipping away for the first time in years.

* * *

_There was the incident, that one incident two weeks after Harry was rescued at the age of nine, that caused the guardian to teach Harry meditation. Harry wasn't trapped anymore, but he wasn't really free either. The guardian placed him in a school southern France, giving Harry the taste of normality._

* * *

On his way to the castle, he saw a something zooming to the stands, and cursed Cedric's name under his breath, he had summoned a broom to help him complete the task. It was a clever idea, and Harry wished he had thought of it. His magic hummed in his body, and he ran as fast as humanly possible, as if his entire life was dedicated to this task, like a star marathon runner.

* * *

_On his second day, the students were playing outside, and an older student pushed Harry down. Annoyed, Harry did a cartwheel on his way down, lifting his leg up to kick the boy in the chest._

* * *

And even though the castle was still at a distance, Harry knew that he was going to make it in time. In fact, he was never late, a small part of his magic was always aware to the time, not in terms of hours and minutes.

Time to wake up. Time to run, to go to class, to be late, the possibilities were Endless, and a small voice in his head whispered,

"_Time to cheat."_

He slammed open the castle doors, and darted up the stairs, and ducking under a bench near the top. The wall was nonexistent at the bottom, and there was a small landing where the hallway was separated by a staircase and a slide, which led directly to Slytherin entrance.

He had discovered this secret passage on the map, and when trying it out with Blaise, they found it cut travel time in half when using the stairs; the slide made it thirty seconds. He landed at the foot of the stairs, and pushed the wall in front of him forward to open the door. It swung open, and Harry was careful not to push it too hard, as a suit of armor was attached directly to it. He said the password, and the door was only half open when Harry darted in the Common Room.

"_The time was Fleur o'clock."_

Rummaging through his trunk, he found it what he came for, the bag of sand. He withdrew a handful, and hesitated. Should he do this? Was this silly little competition worth the use of such a precious resource? And the sand was unpredictable. It had done something differently every time, but Harry knew there was a pattern of sorts, and even now he could sense it. His heart beat once, twice, and he made a choice.

* * *

_It became a small series of confrontation that progressed as time went on, until Harry convinced the boy to go up on the school roof one day, and pushed him off. The teacher's called it a tragic accident, but Harry's guardian wasn't fooled, and promptly removed him to teach him some control. _

* * *

Harry raised his hand in the air, and the sand sprinkled on him as he created a story.

"Once upon a time, there was a young man who was made to face a dragon. The elders of the castle desired the golden egg that it guarded. The young man did not wish to take the journey, but the elders gave him the option of seeking the egg or death, so he went. There were a great many people who went to see him face the dragon, some cheering him on, and others hoping for his downfall. There were three others who were given the same task also, and hoped he would fail so that they could claim the glory instead. The young man was successful, and the spectators were not hurt, but they did learn that the glory of success could be have a high price."

**(A page in Destiny's book turned.)**

Grabbing his Firebolt, Harry exited the common room, and got on. As he zoomed out the doors, he could feel the sand settle, and reality bend to his will.

"_It was a quarter past Krum."_

He reached the tent. He veered off to the broom shed, and deposited his Firebolt there, resolving to pick it up later. Walking back to the tent and heard the spectator's burst out in cheers. He waited for the whistle to blow and then jogged down the path, his heart still pounding from his earlier run. Passing through the entrance he saw the faces of the crowd, and the glowing yellow eyes of the Hungarian Horntail in the distance. He believed there was power in stories. The stories had kept him strong when he was young; they had given him hope, and now would be placing his life with them once more.

But has he took another step forward, the dragon breathed fire at him, and he thought, that maybe it wasn't a good time to act like an idiot either. He dove behind a rock, and felt the heat of the flames from his small hiding place, and mulled his options.

A Ravenclaw would know the weakest point of a dragon. Too bad he hadn't asked Charlie Weasley about that over the summer.

A Hufflepuff would probably be patient and wait for the dragon to fall asleep. He didn't have that sort of time.

A Gryffindor would attack with a spell, or maybe they would happen to have a sword handy. He wished he had a sword.

That only left one option.

Harry emerged from his hiding place once more, and ran forward, aware of the gasp of the crowd, and Bagman's shout of surprise. _Time to stop_. The tail slammed down an arm's length away from him, sending some rocks flying. Harry caught sight of the judge's table behind the dragon, and a small smile darted across his face.

A Slytherin would get someone to do it for them.

He raised his wand as he avoided the tail sweeping towards him, and concentrated with all of his might on the bolts holding the judge's platform up.

"_Accio."_

If the tumbling platform didn't attract the dragon's attention, Karkaroff's girlish scream certainly did.

* * *

Harry stood on the lake, and stomped on the frozen surface, cracking some of the ice. He sloshed inside, the frigid water up to his shins, and cupped his hands inside the water for a handful, wiping off some of the soot on his face. The rest of the school hadn't noticed him yet, something he was grateful for, he had a feeling they would be angry.

A few of them had 'pulled a Diggory' and summoned their broomsticks to escape from the inferno. There were still people flying to the ground, each broomstick weighed down by several people on each one, some clinging on by the bristles. Others had wisely escaped early, noticing that Harry wasn't overly concerned with following the rules. Among these people were Harry's friends, all whom were soot free. Harry saw Ron at the edge of the crowd, and approached him, the golden egg tucked under his arm.

"Good thing I went last isn't it?" He asked with a laugh. The heat from the stadium and the cries of fear had made him feel more alive in years. Ron said nothing at first, pointing at the large ball of flames in front of him. It was on his fourth attempt at speaking did words come out.

"You're mad, completely insane. You know that?" he asked faintly.

"I've been told. What did…?"

"HARRY POTTER! COME HERE THIS INSTANT!" He heard McGonagall scream. The judges and teachers were gathered near the front of the crowd, their faces sooty and grim. He noticed Charlie Weasley and four other dragon keepers taking off on a broomstick and conjuring water from his wand high in the air. Harry wiped the smile off of his face and approached them with caution.

"You called Professor?"

"You endangered the students on purpose!" McGonagall cried, holding her ruined hat in her shaking hands. Harry looked at her aghast in horror.

"I most certainly did not!"

"**No**? You deny that you broke the scaffolding of the judge's table to use them as bait, and encouraged the excitement of the crowd to create a distraction? A distraction that would allow you to successfully retrieve the egg without the dragon noticing as it attacked the crowd in the stands?" questioned Snape who was angrily pointing at the flaming Quidditch stadium behind him.

"Oh, no. I admit to that," Harry said serenely. "I just didn't endanger them."

"And how exactly is encouraging the dragon to attack not putting them in danger?" asked Dumbledore, who looked unamused.

Harry gave his Headmaster a surprised look. "Professor McGonagall told me there were wizards standing in case if it got out of hand. Everything was in perfect control," he said slowly.

Dumbledore had done a cool bit of magic on his way down that made the judges land harmlessly on the ground. But the dragon must had shaken Dumbledore up more than Harry thought, if he forgot something so obvious. And it wasn't as if Harry could explain the sand, or the story created which prevented the spectators from getting hurt.

_Although_, he thought belatedly, noting Karkaroff's hairless face, _the judges were not given that protection._

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, Harry, the role of a Champion is to represent their school to the best of their ability, not use them as dragon bait." The annoyance had faded from Dumbledore's face.

"I didn't sign up for this, I didn't know that was an obligation. The only thing Mr. Bagman told us was that our job was 'to collect the golden egg.'" He pointed at the egg that he had set by his feet. "He didn't say we had to be honorable about it. And I wasn't representing Hogwarts, that's Cedric's job. I was representing me, and that's all. Apparently, my representation likes making fire," he mused as a spark of fire as large as Hagrid popped out from the main inferno.

"Zis is ridiculous, I award 'im no points," said Madame Maxine.

"I second that score," Karkaroff said, dabbing an orange paste that Madam Pomphrey had given him onto his face.

Harry's jaw dropped, and he snapped back at them.

"You know, what's ridiculous? The challenge was supposed to be a test of daring and quick thinking. And yet, Fleur wasn't surprised when she reached in that purple bag and pulled out a dragon. Neither was Krum and neither was Cedric. There was nothing on their faces but determination." Madame Maxine eye's widened and Karkaroff became very interested on the side of the forest.

"The other's had time to prepare, and I didn't. They say desperate people do desperate things. Look, I don't care that they found out anymore, and I understand if you want to dock points for the mess." Snape snorted at this. "But, all I know is that of the four names that came out of the Goblet of Fire, I'm the only one who was unprepared when I reached in that bag." He crossed his arms and waited for their verdict. There was a pause, and Mr. Crouch spoke up.

"Cheating's a traditional part of the tournament and always has been, although I had hoped that the staff would have risen above the temptation. Be that as it may we cannot overlook the damage done in his attempt. I propose that we give Mr. Potter half marks, it puts him in last place, but he will have sufficient opportunity to make up for it in the next two tasks. Mr. Potter, you have had your warning, next time you will not be so fortunate." After a few silent glances, the judges all nodded.

The other three Champions approached, and Harry noticed they approached him with more caution now, so he couldn't resist and gave them a dark grin. Fleur's flinch gave him great satisfaction. Receiving the instructions for the next task, the group headed inside, following the large group of spectators in the castle. Harry hurried over to Blaise, falling into step with him halfway there.

"So… fire?" Blaise asked.

"Fire," Harry replied solemnly.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

There was a painter standing in a field, placing his paintbrush onto a canvas with entirely the wrong color, on entirely the wrong spot. A few hundred years ago people called him Destruction. A large dog trotted up to him.

"Don't put your brush there, it will make the… ah, too late now. Just make sure you don't show anyone that painting, you might blind him or her when they look at it." The man gave a fierce glare to the dog next to him, before bursting out in deep laughter.

"Very funny Barnabas, did you only come out here to insult me?" the man asked, pausing his hand.

"You know that room you have in the back is making an awful lot of noise. What does it do?"

"There is a pond in the back, it warns me when trouble is coming, a visit from a family member," the man replied. His paintbrush was hovering over a wide array of colors, as he tried to determine which hue would be the most appropriate for an ocean.

"Well, it keeps bubbling, and splashing, and making all sorts of an awful racket," observing his friend dip the brush into a blob of grey.

Destruction frowned, put down his brush and headed inside.

"Perhaps it would be best if I go look," he said.

He opened the door to the back room and stepped in front of the bubbling pond. The water frothed back and forth, and but settled when he stood in front of it. Through the surface of the water he saw a familiar boy. Barnabas trotted up next to him.

"All your family's names start with 'D,' so who's he? Dirty?" Barnabas asked, watching Harry Potter wipe some of the soot off of his face.

"**Hahaha**! no I'm afraid not _Dog_." The broad smile off of his face faded away "No, this is someone different. I've met him once, although I don't think he knew who I was at the time. This is very disturbing that he showed up in the pond. It's only supposed to warn me if family is coming. He shouldn't be affecting it." His eyebrows furrowed, and Barnabas twisted his head to the side.

"So, what does it mean?"

"It means that some of my family did not listen to the final words I gave them when I left. It means that I may have to involve myself in the family business once more," the man replied with a sigh, shutting the door to the room.

"I don't see what's so bad about a family visit," Barnabas replied, stretching himself along a patch of sun.

"That, Barnabas, is because you have not met my family," the man replied, painting the cloud on his canvas purple.

* * *


	27. Ch 25 The First Dance of Desire

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

**The First Dance of Desire**

* * *

"_**Human beings are the creatures of desire. They twist and bend as I require it. If I thought otherwise, I would crack, like Delirium; or I would abandon my realm, like our lost brother."**_

Desire in _The Doll's House_

* * *

Dear Remus Lupin,

Hello. This is a letter from Harry Potter. I know this is a bit of a random request, but I didn't know who else to contact. I don't know if you've read in The Daily Prophet or not, but I'm in the Triwizard Tournament. It's a very big mess, and I don't feel like talking much about it, but they are making me compete. In the first task I had to take an egg from a dragon, and I didn't do so well.

I mean, I got the egg, but I also destroyed the Quidditch Standium. They say Karkaroff (he's the headmaster of Durmstrang) is going to regrow his hair by Tuesday. They docked me some points for it, and I don't want it to happen again. I was hoping you could give some recommendations for reading material; I need easy and useful spells because I feel unprepared right now. And I'm forbidden from asking any of my teacher's for help, but you're not my teacher anymore. Thanks,

_Harry_

P.S. Daphne likes the book you suggested at the end of last year. She already used some of the hexes.

* * *

Harry rolled up the parchment, and walked with Blaise up to the Owlery. The Triwizard Tournament ended up being a lot of work. Several of the student's were disgruntled at Harry, as a few of the people had to have their brooms replaced. On the other hand, students weren't taunting him anymore, it appeared they too disliked facing a dragon unprepared.

Unhappy with the outcome of the first task, Harry had begun to prepare for the next one in earnest, spending most of his free time buried in books. He had taken a blank notebook and created a list of spells, potions, subjects and plant names he had learned, documenting the book and page number. The list was originally Hermione's idea, who was able to do in her mind without writing it down. Harry was going for a broad spectrum of knowledge, so that when a challenge arose, he would quickly be able to find the solution. His friends had added some of their own knowledge to the compilation. It helped that he had so many friends with such a wide array of interests.

Absentmindedly making an entry under the letter 'M,' Harry thought of his current problem, the announcement of the Yule Ball. McGonagall had made the announcement during their Transfiguration class and ever since then Hogwarts seemed to have a different attitude. The girls had traveled in packs, hiding their giggles behind their hands and exclaiming over descriptions of dresses, while the boys ruffled their hair, and spent time in front of mirror perfecting their smiles.

Harry found it extremely annoying.

Yes, he had noticed the curve of Hannah's smile, and the fluttering eyelashes on Padma's face. But it was with the same sort of flat observation that he noticed that Ron was now taller than him. His past loomed over him like a dark shadow, and sometimes he felt so much older than them.

Logically, he knew he had to ask someone, but it all seemed so… irrelevant. It was easy to dismiss their excitement or nervousness over a Ball. He would have avoided it, but it was a tradition for the Champions to open the Ball. Harry didn't have very many traditions, it would be a shame to throw away this one.

He was nearly late to History of Magic the next day after being held back in Arithmacy. He was surprised to noticed that his usual seat was occupied by Tracy Davis. Pausing he looked around, only to catch the movement of Pansy Parkinson's hand.

"There's a seat over here, Harry," she said with a smile. As he slid next to here, he noticed the faint smell of jasmine in the air. He bent down to retrieve a piece of blank parchment. He, Daphne and Blaise took turns in writing notes for History of Magic that way only one of them had to pay attention, today was his. Professor Binns floated into the room and began his dry monologue and Harry scribbled down dates quickly.

"Harry," Pansy whispered. He ignored her, if he failed to get proper information down Daphne would skin him alive.

"Harry, who are you taking to the dance?" The quill in Harry's hand snapped, and he hastily grabbed the spare on his desk. He felt Pansy shift next to him.

"_Harrrry_." The tone of her voice sent off all sorts of alarm bells in his head, and he looked at her. Much to his horror, he could see that her eyelashes fluttering at an attempt to catch his attention. He swore internally, his skill at detecting danger was only effective if it was of the physical variety, and completely failed to warn him of blushing females.

Harry heard Blaise's stifled laugh, and realized that he and Daphne were watching his interaction with Pansy, because they had nothing better to do than watch him. He was not going to get embarrassed over this. _He wasn't._

The brusque phrase, "Not you," was on his lips when he paused. What happens if she burst into tears? He hated crying. It was the last thing he needed. Shaking his head to swat away these horrible thoughts, he gave her a charming smile, and proceeded to start his notes once more. She giggled and picked up her quill, and gave him glances the rest of class.

He was out the door as soon as the bell rang, flipping on his Invisibility Cloak to hide from her. Perhaps it was silly to use it for that, but at the current moment he didn't care. He waited across the hall for Daphne and Blaise to emerge from the class, well behind the rest of the class.

"Did you see how quickly he broke his quill?" Blaise said with a laugh. Harry stuffed the Cloak back in his pocket, trailing right behind them, not they had noticed.

"Mmm, yes. I heard that she was going to ask him today, before anyone else did. But you know how he is, so terribly self-involved that I doubt he has even paid attention to the rumors."

"Daphne, will you go to the Yule Ball with me?" Harry asked, irritated by their talk. She jolted, and Blaise turned around quickly, his wand out. Harry swatted Blaise's hand, and gave Daphne a pleading look. He didn't know what he would do if she turned him down, Daphne was one of the few girls that had not turned into a giggling idiot after the announcement. She flushed, before giving a small nod, and Harry let out a sigh of relief.

"I'll never forgive you if you embarrass me in front of the whole school, Harry," she said with a rare smile. He looped his arm around hers, shifting her bag onto his shoulder.

"Never crossed my mind," he admitted cheerfully.

* * *

The rest of December was spent trying to figure out the clue from the golden egg. Harry was determined to show the others he could be a competitor as well. Their attempt to embarrass him rankled at him, and he was determined to show them up for the next task. But Crouch had explained that the egg was the clue they needed to prepare, and Harry found himself mystified by the whole thing. He had taken the egg to the Friday meeting with his friends, and none of them seemed to know either.

Neville had suggested that Harry would be placed under the Cruciatus curse. Harry thought it was a rather odd suggestion, completely irrational, and a bit dark for someone like Neville. He gave himself one month to figure out the clue, and after then he would ask for outside help, maybe blackmail Cedric. He was certain that Blaise could dig up some dirt, and if he couldn't, Blaise could probably make it. But until then, he was preparing by studying.

It took a mere three days for Lupin to send him a list of Defense books. Sirius had purchased some of them as well, sending them with an exhausted and irritable owl. These spells were easy to learn, and Harry was once again overjoyed by his innate ability in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

* * *

Nearly everyone stayed for the Christmas Holidays this year, and it was with some irritation that Harry found himself celebrating Christmas with Draco again. He was grateful that none of his friends had sent him any particularly sensitive this year, the mirror he received the year previous was stuffed at the bottom of his trunk. The overwhelming theme for the year seemed to be books, with each person purchasing him one to help him in the Tournament. He would be glad when it was over. Tossing aside Terry's gift, he headed for breakfast.

Later that night, Harry and Daphne met early with the other champions. Fleur had come with Roger Davies, and Cedric had broke along the Ravenclaw seeker, Cho Chang. Much to his surprise, it turned out that Victor Krum had asked Hermione out to the ball. Her hair was sleeked back, and she looked pretty in her floaty dress. She gave Harry a broad smile, and ignored Daphne's arched eyebrow. Harry kept his face impassive, but inwardly he was in shock. Blaise had never mentioned her going with Krum, and he loved learning these sort of things, she must be very good a keeping secrets

They sat down to eat dinner, and Harry watched Dumbledore pick up the menu. With a clear call of, "Pork Chops," he placed his order. The plate that appeared looked magnificent, and Harry and the others followed his example. Bagman was waving around a glass exuberantly, spilling some of the drink on Mr. Crouch, who was giving stiff nods in agreement. Harry listened to the conversations mulling around him, catching Dumbledore's description of his own Hogwarts wanderings.

"Possibly it is only accessible at five-thirty in the morning. Or it may only appear at the quarter moon or when the seeker has an exceptionally full bladder."

Harry smothered the grin that sprung to his face. Daphne's eyes flicked to him.

"Dumbledore's such an odd man," she said.

"True, but it wouldn't it be great to find that room? It has to be around here somewhere."

"You have an overwhelming need for toilets?" she enquired. "Should I be worried? Or perhaps you collect seat covers like the Weasleys."

Harry frowned, noting the gleam of amusement in her eyes. "I don't care about the toilets Daphne. I care about the secret." Daphne didn't reply to this, and Harry found himself a little disappointed by her lack of interest.

Dumbledore raised his wand at the end of the meal, making a set of musical instruments appear, signaling the time to dance.

Harry looped his arm through Daphne's and headed to the center of the room. The slow tune that began was easy to follow, and he only half paid attention to the steps he was taking. Following the rhythm, he noticed some of the looks the girls were casting, and he tugged at his robes, they made him uncomfortable. Soon most of the students were dancing to the music, and Harry was swapped around the females of his group. He found himself bewildered by the attention, and finally he broke down.

"Why don't you let me sit down?" he asked with exasperation to Hannah.

She giggled, and gave him a sly smile. "Well, we could, but really Harry, You're a good dancer. I didn't know you had it in you. I came with Justin, and he stepped on my toes half of the time."

Harry cursed himself internally. Ever since the first task, his internal magic had awakened, and his senses had gotten sharper. He had kept that magic dormant even before he entered Hogwarts, and now it was difficult to shut down again. It did not help that he was still mystified by his entrance in the Triwizard Cup which gave him a constant feeling of danger.

In short, his ability for perfect timing made him the perfect dancer, and the pet of every girl he knew during a dance.

Harry begged for a break in the second hour, he really wanted to get something to drink. Parvati gave him a disappointed look, but Harry didn't really care, it would have been her third round anyway. Stepping to the table of drinks, Harry poured himself a cup of punch, reading the note that informed anyone who tried to spike it would find themselves with an overwhelming urge to scratch themselves for three days. He looked around the room and took in the crowd for the first time.

Ron was sitting at a nearby table, looking oddly disgruntled, and picking at some loose threads on his dress robes. Draco was having a conversation with Pansy, who was laughing shrilly. Harry smirked into his cup, and wondered if she ever mentioned to Draco that he was choice number two. Madame Maxime was dancing with Hagrid; THAT was a sight. And Fleur was drawing a large crowd of spectators, while Roger Davies seemed more preoccupied with looking at her face, then noticing where his feet were placed. Irritated she let go of his hands, and she began to dance alone. Faster and faster she danced, and her hair whipped behind her in a swirl of light, and beauty. Harry felt himself oddly mesmerized and shook his head to erase the dizziness that swept on him. He noted, with some amusement that Roger Davis had collapsed on the floor, looking at her with a glazed expression

"Hello Harry. How do you like my little show?"

Harry turned around. Desire stood behind him, dressed in a deep red robe, a wreath of holly sitting on its head. She was holding a class filled with golden wine, the exact same hue of his eyes. Harry took a step back, and noticed that many of the boys had followed Roger Davies example.

"Oh, so you're responsible for Fleur. She's only a quarter veela right? I thought her aura was a little bit too strong. She's okay, I guess." Harry shrugged nonchalantly, trying to ignore the rapid thumping of his heart. Desire flashed a smile.

"Come now Harry, surely you're interested. Just think of what you could have. It wouldn't take much for you to sweet talk your way into her dress. It would be quite impressive for someone your age to bag such a sweet little piece of…"

"Cut the games, Desire. I know what you are trying to do," Harry said in annoyance, resisting the urge to look at Fleur. Most of the males were on the ground now, and the females were shielding their eyes from the light that seemed to be emanating from Fleur. Oddly enough, the adults seemed to ignore her show, as if they were unaware of its existence.

"I'm not entirely stupid. You want me to desire something, so you can take my heart and rip it to shreds and have me forever. Tempting, but I'll pass. I still remember that incident with The Mirror of Erised, that wasn't very nice."

A flicker of anger appeared on Desire's face, before dissolving into an innocent expression. "Very well, Harry. Don't say that I didn't give you a warning. You can't keep me away you know. Sooner or later you **will** come to me. I'll just have to make it sooner."

Desire faded away, and Fleur stopped dancing, and frowned when she noticed all the collapsed males in the room. They all got up sluggishly, but did not speak of the incident, proceeding with their lives unaware of the visit that had just occurred.

Harry frowned, Desire's warning was ominous. He didn't see the connection there was with Desire and him entering the Tournament, but it could be possible. He liked to think that he was one of their favorite's, that the Endless contacted them because they liked him. But if he had made an enemy of one of the Endless…

He exited the Great Hall, and headed towards the nearest restroom, slipping out before the hoard of girls found him again. He was washing his hands when Myrtle floated innocently through the wall.

"Hello Harry."

"Er, what are you doing Myrtle, shouldn't you be in the girl's restroom?" Harry asked.

"I was in the hallway, when I saw you coming in here. I haven't seen you since the attack and I just wanted to thank you."

Perplexed, Harry turned to her. "For what?"

"Making me remember some things that I forgot. I know it doesn't really matter to you, but I'm really grateful. I just wanted to let you know that if you need any help, I'm available. I know all sorts of gossip now." Harry made to leave the restroom, when an idea popped in his head.

"Myrtle, have you heard of a disappearing restroom? Dumbledore mentioned it earlier today and I was just curious of what it looked like."

Myrtle shook her head. "No, I haven't, but I can ask around. The Grey Lady has been here for ages, if anyone would know it might be her."

"Thanks Myrtle. There's no rush. I was just curious."

Harry exited the bathroom, hoping that she would not randomly appear in his restroom again. In the Entrance Hall, he found Hermione and Ron having a fight.

"Perhaps you should have asked me to the ball first, instead of using me as your last resort." Hermione yelled, stomping up the stairs in her delicate high heels, leaving Ron behind with his mouth open in shock. He caught sight of Harry standing in the doorway, and gave a shrug.

"I don't understand girls. It's like they speak another language."

The pieces clicked in Harry's head. The golden egg...

"_It is another language!"_

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

MacNair could remember the precise moment it happened. It was when that hippogriff had broken free. The Minister had complained quite a lot to him that day, and it made him disgruntled that such a mediocre man had made his way into the highest office. That night he had visited with some of his old friends, and they spent the night waxing poetically about the days The Dark Lord was in power amongst glasses of strong whiskey. The next day, the hangover went away, but the feeling of wanting The Dark Lord back in power did not.

He had heard the rumors of course. Lucius had proclaimed that The Dark Lord had left a present that would kill the Mudbloods in the school, but it never happened. He also heard the rumors that The Dark Lord was hiding in Albania. He remembered his Master's claims that he had gone through great lengths in order to obtain immortality, and how he didn't have to settle on a job as the executioner for dangerous animals. He remembered killing more than that, and he missed it.

Mostly he missed the power.

The screams weren't bad either.

The memories clung to his mind for a couple of months, until one day he flipped to open _The Daily Prophet _and learned that The Dark Lord's most faithful follower was not Sirius Black, but that pathetic piece of shit named Pettigrew. Black was an acceptable cohort, he was Pureblood, and everyone knew that he was the best in Defense Against the Dark Arts when he was in school. He had spent years believing that Black had spied against Dumbledore and attacked Muggles, only to find out it wasn't true.

It was all he could think of when he prepared for work, that "The right hand man of The Dark Lord" was Pettigrew. Then he went to work and saw the dementors and Aurors bring him in, his skin grey, and his body oddly distorted from so many years spent hiding as a rat. Then he was called into the office and asked to help with yet another doxy infestation.

A few hours later he was in Albania, The Dark Lord deserved better.

It was astonishingly easy to find him. He merely walked into the forest with his wand as a guide, and a selection of food with him. After two days of journeying, The Dark Lord approached him, and by the end of the week he had managed to create a temporary vessel for his master. He wasn't repulsed by the form The Dark Lord took, he was furious. That a one year old had turned his Master into a pale whisper of his former self.

The Dark Lord already knew of the ritual that would give him his new body, and he declared that no other blood would be worthy than that of Harry Potter, and he agreed. There would be nothing but the best for his Master. Unfortunately it meant getting a spy into Hogwarts, and they traveled back to England, MacNair had hoped one of his old friends would provide assistance. The Quidditch Cup was the perfect opportunity, it was highly likely that the boy would be there anyway, and they could perform the ritual immediately. MacNair arrived late in the night with his Master in his arms, hoping that most of the celebrations would have slowed so they could slip in.

Unfortunately, his old friends had decided to have a reunion without him. There was a group of Ministry workers surrounding them, to his inconvenience and fury. However, MacNair managed to catch sight of Potter as he pulled a red-head past Lucius' son. He traveled behind them under a Disillusionment charm, and just as he begun to worry that he had lost the boy, the Dark Mark was cast into the sky. Ministry workers appeared immediately so capturing Potter was out of the question, but MacNair also knew that he had found someone that was a dedicated to The Dark Lord as he was.

The wizard who had been underneath the invisibility cloak was Barty Crouch Jr. who had been knocked down by a rock Potter had thrown. A stunning curse had not hit him, instead he faked his unconsciousness, waiting for his father to return. MacNair used the opportunity to stun the father, and revealed himself to Barty. They created a plan with information that Barty gave them from overhearing his father. The Dark Lord knew that entering Potter into the Tournament was the best way to get the boy away from Dumbledore, and his two servants followed his instructions.

However, the plan to capture Potter hinged on him winning the Tournament. Potter was popular, but a mediocre wizard and there was some worry between him and Barty when he seemed uninterested in winning. However, the Dark Lord insisted that Potter was a worthy Slytherin, and would do most of the work himself once there was sufficient motivation and opportunity. The foreign Headmaster's had helped their champions, and Barty had managed to help Diggory succeed in The First Task, aiming for humiliation to change Potter's mind. But the boy had managed to discover the underhanded tactics on his own, and the result was shocking. He hadn't doubted his Master, but proof was another matter. No other enemy would do.

So now MacNair and Barty were taking turns in keeping an eye on the boy, while avoiding the suspicion of The Ministry, Moody and Dumbledore. The complications were many, and the risks were high.

"Something more to drink, Ludo?" Dumbledore asked.

"Why, yes. I do think I'll have some. It is fantastic how well this turned out. Smashing." MacNair replied, smacking his lips with faked enthusiasm.

He felt his heart beat furiously as he watched Potter talk to his classmate. The Desire to see Harry Potter resurrect his Master made his job almost effortless.


	28. Ch 26 The Second Task

**Chapter Twenty Six**

**The Second Task**

* * *

_**There are many ways to lose the oldest game. Failure of nerve, hesitation... Being unable to shift into a defensive shape. **Lack of imagination._

Dream, _Preludes & Nocturnes_

* * *

Harry was somewhat ashamed that it took him so long in order to figure out the second clue. It should have been obvious that it was in another language, how often had he traveled down the street of a foreign village with the sounds of another person's mouth sounding like nothing but noise? Harry traveled straight to the library the day after the Yule Ball and took out the book _Magical Languages and the Magicians Who Mutter Them_. As Harry left the library he ran into Bagman.

"Harry, preparing for the task I hope." He spied the book in Harry's hands. "And it looks like you're on the right track as well." Harry gave Bagman a peculiar look as he walked away. He was a strange man.

Based on the clues in the book, Harry suspected the clue was in Mermish and took his golden egg with him to the baths, sticking in the sink in order to hear it properly. He listened to the poem intently, and hearing the last phrase he frowned.

**"But past the hour- the prospect's black, **

**Too late, it's gone it won't come back."**

He spent the next month anxiously awaiting the next task. The poem said it would take something dear to him. Would it be an object, a person, his memories? Losing his memories had already been proven dear to him. It was a silly thing, he knew that it wouldn't be so dangerous as that, but he supposed these thoughts entered his mind because of paranoia. He scribbled a note to Sirius with the entire poem to get his thoughts. The prompt response was short.

Harry,

Don't be an idiot. Just stay within the time limit and you'll be fine. Have fun and be careful.

Sirius

Harry blinked. _Well, that settled it. _Now if he only knew how to breathe underwater.

* * *

It was the second week of February when Cedric approached him.

"Have you figured out the clue yet?" he asked. Harry looked at him curiously, wondering his intentions. Plastering a face of misery, he looked up at Cedric. Damn, he wished he were taller.

"I'm working on it," Harry said. Cedric was older, he should be having an easier time of it than Harry, and there was no way he was going to give up the little advantage that he had.

"Well then. I have a suggestion" Cedric said, looking over his shoulder for any eavesdroppers. "Take a bath with it. You can use the prefect bathroom, the password is _'pine fresh'."_

"Oh?" He said, he was surprised; he didn't think that Cedric would try to help him. Cedric nodded gravelly and Harry responded. "Well, I feel so much smarter now. It certainly makes up for facing a fully grown dragon without any warning. Thank you honorable Cedric of Hufflepuff, I will be able to sleep well tonight knowing that I am clean." Harry bit his lip to stop the smile from spreading. That was a horrible hint, Cedric did not even tell him that the message could only be heard underwater. Perhaps Harry could have done without the sarcasm, but where would the fun in that be?

Cedric flushed, nervously looking for people again before whispering to him. "Look, it wasn't like that. I found out by the dragon's by chance, and you said you weren't going to planning on competing, so I kept the information to myself. I didn't know that the others would have found out as well. And I didn't even see the dragons, if I had seen what we were up against, I would have told you." Harry looked at Cedric with confusion.

"If you didn't see them, how did you know about the dragons?"

"I went out for a fly that evening, and when I came back down I was struck by this strange desire to take a nap. I must have been out there for hours, it wasn't until the dragon keepers passed by that I woke up."

Harry twitched when he heard Cedric's story. Was it human weakness that urged Cedric to stay outside or was it the intervention of Desire? Harry gave a distracted wave to Cedric in goodbye, his mind full of questions. He felt that the best place to mull them over was in a bath. And luckily, he knew just the place.

One hour later, Harry was squeaky clean, managing to get some information from Myrtle and extract a promise from her that she would never visit him in the bathroom again.

* * *

With Cedric's information, Harry knew that it was only a game that Desire was planning, and abandoned his original plan in solving the the task by himself. He didn't know what Desire was aiming for, but with the immediate danger gone, there was no point in keeping his friends away. Ron had taken to poking him repeatedly in Potions class anyway, claiming that he didn't spend much time with them. So it was with some embarrassment that he showed up to the next Friday meeting, after being absent since the Yule Ball.

"Oh look, The Prodigal has returned," said Ernie with his arms outstretch for a hug.

"Shut it!" Harry said with a grin. He hadn't really missed the meetings, but coming back to them made him realize that he truly enjoyed them.

Harry did not even have a chance to sit down before he was besieged by questions of the second task. He explained what he had learned and what he had done to prepare for the task. He didn't even bother looking at Transfiguration for answers to the task. And he knew there wasn't a defensive spell that would help with it, and hexes destroyed things, not retrieved them. The first option was found easily by the help of George, who explained the finer details of a Bubblehead charm. Apparently he and Fred had set off enough bags of Dungbombs accidentally that they had plenty of practice in using it.

"I think that would work very well," said Padma, her head distorted by her own bubble she had created. Harry walked over to her, and poked the bubble experimentally with his finger.

"Careful, Harry. The charm sends a nasty shock through your body when it pops." Fred explain cheerfully as Harry swore dreadfully, holding his hand. After shooting Fred a look of annoyance, he turned to Neville and Blaise. His best chance was still a potion or a plant, he wasn't comfortable in placing his breathing ability in something that could pop easily.

"Neville, you wouldn't happen to know a plant that works well for breathing underwater, would you?"

Neville's eyebrows scrunched together, before he shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not. A plant like that would be hard to find around here though, it would more likely to be found in warmer areas, like the Caribbean." His face brightened. "I know there's a couple of books that I can look up in the library. I'll get back to you on it Harry."

"Er, thanks Neville. I still need to be able to get it, if we find one. Blaise?"

"Sorry, Harry. All of the potions I can find don't really have what your looking for. Most of them will allow you to be underwater, on the other hand, you wouldn't be conscious either. No point in me brewing them." Harry sighed.

"All right, how do you do the Bubblehead charm?" he said wearily to Padma. He would be glad when the tournament was over.

Harry patted his pocket with relief the day before the task. He had just come from Potions managed to steal away some gillyweed from the cupboard. Neville had come to him with the answer a mere week before, so it was impossible to order some in time for the task, but Harry did manage to spy some in Snape's cupboards. It was fortunate the Seamus and Dean were willing to purposely screw up their potion when Harry asked. Seamus wasn't the greatest at potions, but he knew what ingredients made spectacular explosions through trial and error. (mostly error) The resulting explosion kept Snape occupied enough for Harry to swipe the gillyweed he needed.

Snape would probably give him hell later, but the glory of success was worth it. He paused in the middle of the hallway to look out the window. The sun had setting on the lake, where the next day he would in its icy waters. He saw Hagrid leading the Beauxbaton palominos away, and the sails of the Durmstrang ship flapping away in the wind.

_Oh._

His eyes widened with a single thought.

Searching through his pockets, his hand connected with the old parchment of the Marauder's Map. He activated it, and searched frantically for one single name. He found him on the third floor, and broke out in a run.

The Tournament was nothing but a game to him. Sirius was right, he might as well have fun with it.

* * *

Harry walked out with most of the school when it was time for the second task, and separated from them when he saw the group of judges and participants off to the side. He saw that the other competitors had prepared for their swim, and Harry looked down at his heavy cloak. He looked dreadfully unprepared. Mr. Crouch looked that the champions and began to speak.

"Does everyone know what they are going to do?" The champions nodded. "Here is a quick review of the rules. You have one hour to complete the task. The person you are going to search for is under an enchanted sleep so they will not be able to help you, and it is your responsibility to retrieve them. There will be no destruction of public property or the mermaid village. Understood?" Everyone looked at Harry, who gave a firm nod.

Bagman blew the whistle, and all of the champions jumped in the water, Harry was still wearing his school robes and shoes. He snapped on a pair of goggles from his pocket and took a deep breath and dived down. Under the murky water he saw the forms of the other champions as he went closer to see what they had done, and saw the preparations they made in order to complete the task. His information gathering complete, he turned away from them and headed towards his target.

Harry always knew that the other Champions were amateurs, Krum had a slight edge as a professional Quidditch Player. Harry, on the other hand, was experienced in making plans, and considering risks and outcomes. The others were so concerned with breathing underwater that they did not fully anticipate the other challenges. Morons.

Fleur and Cedric could breathe underwater using the Bubblehead charm, but there was still the issue of being able to find their quarry in a timely fashion. Krum's idea was clever, but self-transfiguration could be very tricky. Myrtle had told him that the merpeople lived quite a ways in the lake, and time was precious.

So there was no point in him swimming in the lake, full of weeds, a squid, and grindylows when he could just go around the whole thing. He originally intended to use a broom to fly over the lake and use gillyweed to swim down to the direct spot above the merpeople village. Easy and simple. But Harry wasn't representing Hogwarts, and after the show he had given after the first task he would hate to disappoint the crowd.

He grasped the rope hanging off the edge of the Durmstrang ship, and started to pull himself up. Reaching the top, he cast a drying charm on himself as he saw the spectators had move farther down to where the champions would emerge. Good, there would be less chance of him being stopped. He walked across the deck and entered the nearest door, hopefully he would be able to find his First Mate.

Peeves was already there, juggling a set of gobstones with his hands and feet into a figure eight. Harry took a moment to appreciate the sight before he spoke.

"First Mate Peeves! Can you explain to me what it is you are wearing?" Peeves had donned a pirate's outfit, with black pants, a red striped shirt, and an eyepatch.

"I need proper pirate clothes, Cap'n Potty Potter!" he replied, allowing the gobstones to fall to the floor as he waved around a sword that he took from a suit of armor in the castle.

"No, not that! That's Gryffindor red you are wearing! You know that color makes my skin break out!"

Peeves looked down at his shirt and with a delighted cackle, spun around in a circle, his shirt switching to a representable dark green. He even tossed a matching bandanna to Harry, who tied it around his neck. Harry did not have the slightest idea on how to navigate the ship, but he was counting on the poltergeist's innate knowledge in causing mischief in order to be successful. Nodding, Harry gave the signal to Peeves to start sailing, who began to sing:

_Fleur won't win, she's blonder than the rest._

_Yo ho ho, The Hufflepuff is dumb._

_The winner is clear, Cap'n Potty's the best._

_Yo ho ho, just in case, let's hit Krum!_

He headed down the hallway to investigate the personal quarters. There wasn't anything remarkable in there, although Harry did take a moment to appreciate Krum's trophy. There was one door that was locked, and Harry flicked his knife into the keyhole and it gave a satisfying click. Noting the neat appearance of the room, and the desk stacked with papers, Harry realized that it was Karkaroff's room. He rifled through the papers, and drawers and was disappointed to find nothing he could use for blackmail. He frowned, he was hoping to find something that way Karkaroff wouldn't punish him for stealing his ship. Although he did find a large silver key, with the label "International Waters." Sticking it in his pocket, he went back to find Peeves, it was time to rescue some people. He was looking out one of the hallway windows when the ship gave a strong lurch, he found himself under water, eyeballing the giant squid.

Impressed, he went back to the navigation room, and found Peeves cackling loudly as he blasted grindylows with the cannons. Perhaps it was a poor idea to enlist such questionable help. Then again, chaos wasn't always a bad thing, Delirium had proven that much to him.

"Mr. Cap'n Pirate Potty! I wanna shoot shquishy, squashy, students."

_Shit_. That would definitely make him lose the tournament.

"Er, no. The student's are off limits." Harry replied, as he gave a waved to Cedric on the other side of the glass.

"The judges?" Peeve's asked hopefully, and Harry hid his smile. He hadn't had much experience with Peeves, whose discomfort of the Bloody Baron that made him reluctant to pick on Slytherins.

"I'd say yes, but they've already yelled at me for that. No, First Mate Peeves, and think we will have to content ourselves with option number one. To the Mervillage!" They zoomed away, leaving an astonished Cedric behind.

They had only been sailing for a couple of minutes when they encountered Fleur, who was surrounded by grindylow. She didn't even notice the giant ship around her, Harry could see that her normal demeanor had been replaced by panic as she tried to fight them away. However, one got to close and Harry knew that the charm allowing her to breathe would fail at any second. He couldn't let her die in the water, not while he was watching.

"Peeves, we need to get her out of the water, do you know anyway to do that?" Peeves floated over to the control board, and pushed a button. Harry saw a giant net pop out from the side of the ship and scoop Fleur and a couple of grindylows and pulled them inside. He ran over to the side chamber where she was deposited, and found her huddled on the ground, sobbing. Kicking the grindlows away, Harry knelt down next to her.

"Um...There, there," he said, patting her back. It did nothing. Harry ran his hand through his hair in frustration. He needed her to stop crying. He racked his mind for a solution that would calm her before she really lost it. "You can come with me to rescue whats-his-or-her-face." Fleur looked up at him with bleary eyes.

"You would let me come with you?" And his nod, she grasped his hands. "Thank you, 'arry. I was wrong about you." She stood up uncertainly and Harry led her out of the room to the observation deck. They had arrived at the village, and it looked like all of the merpeople housed there were waiting for them.

"Where is Gabrielle, my sister? Zey better 'ave her safe." Fleur cried.

"I think they are just spectators, it doesn't look like they have much contact with wizards." Harry said, looking at the merpeople's uncertain faces. The ship arrived at the village square where the four prisoners were kept. They were unharmed, but tied in place by a long string of seaweed.

"First Mate Peeves, you are up." The Poltergeist gave a salute, and then pushed some buttons on the panel. The mermen guarding the prisoner's scattered when the spied the harpoon appearing on the side of the ship. There was a loud "BANG," the harpoon shot through the water, cutting the seaweed ropes. The harpoon stopped when the rope attached to it pulled taught, halting its journey to a nearby building.

The ship net came out once more, scooping up all of the prisoners. When Harry and Fleur entered the room, the four prior captives were just waking up. Harry poked at Ron with his toe, while Fleur hugged her sister tightly.

"Where are we?" Ron asked, rubbing at his eyes.

"The Durmstrang ship," Harry replied.

Ron's jaw dropped, and then he said gleefully. "I bet Krum is going to be made that he didn't think of this, it's his ship!" He eyed Harry's bandanna, and looked around the room, even poking his head out the door.

"What are you looking for?" Harry asked Ron, puzzled. Ron tossed him a large grin, this eyes gleaming mischievously.

"Moody. You seem to be going for a pirate theme, and I thought since Moody has a peg leg..." he trailed off and gave a shrug. Harry snorted, silently wincing at his missed opportunity. He walked out of the room, the others trailing behind him.

"Our mission is accomplished, I guess we will go back up to the judges now. Let me go tell First Mate Peeves."

"No, we cannot. Ze other champions are still out zere. It will cause zem great fear, if ze other two are gone. We stay." Fleur said. Ron's mouth open slightly, his eyes glazing, before he nodded his agreement to Harry. Harry sighed, and then nodded.

Cedric was the next person to arrive, pausing when he noticed Cho missing from the town square. He floated over to the merpeople who shook their heads and pointed in the direction of the ship, and Harry let him enter. Krum was last, and noticing the Durmstrang ship immediately he swam over and pounded at the window.

Krum was looked at him in annoyance, and after checking to see that Hermione was safe. He walked over to Harry.

"You vill not do vell on the task. Headmaster Karkaroff vill not be pleased that you took his ship."

But Krum did have a point. He would be given half points again, even though he managed to rescue everyone within in the time limit. He would just have to bring them all down with him. He had friends in four houses, surely uniting four champions wouldn't be so hard, especially since Fleur was in the same position.

"I deserve a high score, fair and square. I followed all of the rules that were laid out in the beginning of the task, I got here first, and I rescued everyone. Fleur won't do well either because she was with me. But I don't care about that, because you know what irritates me? The whole school us up there, with Beauxbatons and Durmstrang next to them. They have no idea about the freezing cold water, or the grindylows, or the strange world that is in this lake. They are just ready to watch us fail. We've worked hard, we **all** have, and I'm ready for a break. This ship can go anywhere in the world, I say we take it out for a spin." Harry said assertively, looking around at the people, hoping that he had not laid it on too thickly.

Cedric's jaw dropped, and Hermione had a look of horror. Krum on the other hand, laughed.

"I agree. The Bulgarian Quidditch Team made certain to give us time to relax in between training. Unfortunately, the are different rules for sailing in International Waters. And Karkaroff has the key, he has hidden it so ve vill not take the ship out."

"You know how to sail the ship?" Cedric asked in astonishment. Krum scowled.

"Karkaroff does not not how to sail the ship. He stayed in his room during the journey, and ve sailed the ship." Harry smirked internally, Krum's distaste for his Headmaster was a weakness he could exploit.

"Well, this will be the only opportunity we have. I'm sure Karkaroff will be more careful about the ship from here on out. But we all have to make this decision together. As for the key, I assume you mean this one?" Harry asked, dangling the silver object from his finger. Krum's eyes widened, and a smile crossed his face, and he nodded his agreement. Fleur, knowing that she too would score poorly in the second task, flipped her hair, and nodded as well. That left Cedric, who looked uncertain.

His mind was made up when Cho's grasped his arm.

"We should do this, I think that would be an awful lot of fun. The whole tournament is supposed to be about inter school connections anyway." Cedric looked at Cho, his face softening into a dopey grin.

"Well, okay. We are all on board." He winced. "No pun intended." Everyone nodded, and Peeves cried out.

"Where are we traveling, Cap'n Pirate Potty?" Harry stuck the silver key in the control panel and responded.

"I been thinking a lot about the Caribbean lately."

* * *

It was around dinner time when they returned. Harry had his arm draped over Hermione's shoulder as they walked in the door. The buzzing of the student's stopped. There was a flash of a camera, Harry gave a lazy smile to the photographer. The adults rushed forward, Harry vaguely noted that Sirius was among the crowd along with a few parents, Madame Maxine arriving first.

"Where 'ave you been?" she asked angrily. Harry didn't say anything, concentrating on a bright green quill. There was something important he was supposed to remember about that quill.

"POTTER! Have you been drinking?" McGonagall cried, as she noted Harry's disheveled appearance.

Harry blinked at her and displayed a wide grin. "NO, I most certainly have absolutely not!" He shook with laughter, then he let out a chuckle. "Well, maybe. Well, just a little." He gave her a wink.

"You are the Tournament champions, this sort of behavior is unacceptable! Cedric, explain yourself" Mr. Diggory barked at his son. By the Vernon Dursley emotion indicator, Mr. Diggory somewhere between fury and constipation.

"Sorry, Dad. Can't explain, Marauder's Honor you see." Cedric responded, ruffling his hair until it was messier than Harry's. Sirius let out a bark of laughter, which immediately quelled at McGonagall's glare. Harry was pleased to notice that his godfather was in good spirits, perhaps he was going to get away with this after all.

"Excuse, me Professors, Madams and Sirs. I must admit that situation in which we find ourselves is entirely my fault. I was the one who exacerbated, and indeed, encouraged such illicit behavior. To which, I most deliver my most humble apologies, and plead that the representations of our fine European schools are not viewed upon as scoundrels," said a new voice.

Silence pervaded the Great Hall, most unbelieving of the image before their eyes. The speaker was a sharp contrast to the participants of the second task, who looked like they had been mauled by tropical flowers. Dumbledore was the first to recover.

"Very well, then. I will recommend that the champions receive the scores that were tentatively suggested by the Merchieftainess earlier this evening, with punishment left up to their Heads of House," he said wearily. Harry winced as he noticed Snape's dark expression, so much for getting away with it. The school was dismissed.

"Who would have thought" Harry overheard Fred say, "That when Peeves gets some alcohol in him he becomes like Percy?" The poltergeist had donned a suit and a monocle sometime during their trip back, and was currently adjusting some of the banners in the Great Hall.

Shaking his head at the strangeness, Harry went straight for the bathroom; he was exhausted. As he tiredly wiped the two red lipstick marks on his face, he couldn't help but feeling a smug sense of satisfaction.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Delirium was walking down the street to visit someone. She wasn't quite certain who it was, but she could feel him calling her. Actually, he had called her a while ago, but she was doing something else at the time, then she got distracted, and she forgot all about it. But the the call for help was saved in a straw scarecrow, and eventually the scarecrow caught up to her, and delivered the message.

So she was walking down the street to visit someone.

She paused in front of the home, it looked quite ordinary. She opened the door, and walked down the hallway and stairs, passing by a large cauldron that contained a dark, brown, murky substance before entering in another room.

There was a man, tied to a chair, with wide eyes and a wild mustache. His eyes flicked towards her, but he said nothing.

"What are you doing? I think you called me, but I'm not sure." The man blinked at her some more, then she continued. "Being tied to a chair isn't much fun. I've tried it, but I think its more fun to be out of a chair. There are a lot of things out there. Some of them are nice and some of them are scary, but you won't know if you never leave your chair."

Suddenly another man came in the room, he brought with him a plate of food. He looked identical to the man tied in the chair, although considerably cleaner. Depositing it in the far corner of the room, and vanished the ropes tying the man to the chair, and left.

"OOoh there are two of you! There's only one of me, but I've been two people...it's...um.. complicated." She watched Crouch methodically eat the food from his plate, peering at him from beneath her green and pink locks of hair.

"My friend, Harry, he's really nice, you might know him, lots of people know him, he used to be not free either. He could help you out if you are scared." Delirium rested her chin on her knees. "I'll let you know when it's safe, and we can find him."

She watched the elder Crouch eat his dinner, patiently waiting for the right moment to free him.


	29. Ch 27 A Number of Surprises

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

**A Number of Surprises**

* * *

_**I think you're very nice. I think twinkle's a nice word. So's viridian. I met a lady once who had an imaginary fish.**_

Delirium, in _Brief Lives_

* * *

Harry put down _The Daily Prophet_ with his disgust, his face growing red with anger and embarrassment and walked over to the Gryffindor table, where owls besieged Hermione. An article that claimed Hermione was in a love triangle between him and Victor. It was also accompanied with a photo of him leaning his head against his shoulder, and failed to mention he was doing so because he was afraid of falling on his face after his trip to the Caribbean. The lipstick marks on his face did her no favors either.

"Don't open those letters." Hermione looked up, halfway done with unrolling one letter. "They are from complete strangers who don't know you or me, and there's no reason you should even bother with opening them."

Seamus laughed, and reached for a letter of his own. "Have we finally found something that you're afraid of Harry? You can take on dragons and sea monsters but you are afraid of a little… Egh!" He popped one of the letters opened for effect and a goo dripped out of it. Neville scooted back from his seat, giving Seamus a wary look.

"Er, Seamus, it looks like Harry had a point. That's undiluted bubertuber pus on your hands. Best to get yourself up to the hospital wing." Seamus' face turned to a look of horror as he raced out of the Great Hall.

"See? You should just burn them." Harry said vehemently. Hermione's look of doubt faded away, and she stopped opening the letters. Clutching as many as she could, Hermione went to find the nearest fireplace. Harry noticed, with some amusement, that Ron had volunteered to help her. Dean stuck a piece of toast between his teeth and went to find Seamus and Harry went back to the Slytherin table were Blaise was smirking.

"You know, this," Blaise waved _The Daily Prophet_, "Might no have happened if you had been sensible enough to bring me along with you. I could have saved you the embarrassment, but instead, your most prized possession was Weasley." Blaise scowled.

"Oh, be quiet. I brought you a gift didn't I?" Harry grumbled. "I didn't make the choice anyway." he replied. Although, he thought as he angrily stuffed _The Prophet_ in a nearby bin, it would have always been Ron. He had thought of it carefully as they sailed to warmer waters, he knew that most people would have thought Blaise as his closest friend. But the person had been chosen by an impartial source, and the truth was Ron had been his first friend. Then there was that other situation.

Cutting himself off from Desire had limited his own emotions, making them shallow and fleeting, dulling them to little more than apathy. It was something that Harry was aware of, but he thought that the cost was worthy, especially after meeting Desire on Christmas. So the hostage for the second task would have focused on something closer to his emotional ties as a first year, when he was still weak and vulnerable. Ron was the epitome of normal and unremarkable to the highest point. It was the illusion of a Could-Have-Been-Life that Harry cherished more than than Ron. Blaise, with his many stepfathers, and a family seeped in wealth did not fit that image.

But knowing Blaise would whine about it anyway, Harry got him a shrunken head from the trip. He also bought a bracelet for Daphne, he had never thanked her properly for going with him to the Yule Ball anyway. Grabbing his things, Harry headed off for Defense class. He was not looking forward to Potions, where Snape would undoubtedly mention the article and give him detention for the next week for borrowing the ship.

* * *

Because of the second task and the punishment afterwards, it took some time for him to investigate the information that Myrtle had given him a few months back, she had managed to located the room of magical toilets by talking to some of the house-elves. Only, as she explained it, it contained more than toilets. Harry knew that they would be giving him information on the third task soon and that he would be immersed in preparation. So in the last week of he made time to explore the room. And the first time that he opened the door, he slammed the door shut again, and rapidly blinked his eyes.

The glare from the golden toilet seats had caught him completely by surprise.

So when he had the chance he would slip into the room and see what the limitations were. He learned that he could not get any food from the room, but it would make a nice passageway that would lead to food. And he also learned that the room managed to borrow things that were in the school. He recognized the pillows from Flitwick's classroom, and managed to get a long look a Moody's giant Sneakoscope. It was a nice, quiet retreat from the bustle of the school, and the snarky remarks his fellow students would mutter in the hallways.

Harry's status as a champion gave him a degree of immunity in Slytherin House. But even Harry would admit that the articles Rita printed were deeply embarrassing, and Draco took great pleasure in quoting them. Harry was not irritated as much as Draco thought, but the chorus of Pansy's giggles and Vincent's guffaws made up for it.

But during his second week of exploring the room, he found the most amazing thing possible, a room full of junk. He wasn't quite sure how he had managed to find the room; Harry supposed he had been a bit vague in his description, thinking only of the "Hidden Room." And what a glorious room it was; a cathedral full of junk, knickknacks, and contraband hundreds of years old.

He spent the next week exploring that room, and noting some of the things were still usable, for some reason they had been abandoned by their owner and were free for his taking. Harry resolved to make a list of things that he might want to get and see if he could find them in this room. Perhaps the summoning charm would work again in his favor. That would probably be next year, there was still the third task and he would have to get Sirius' ideas on this. The room wasn't on the Maurauder's Map after all, he would get a particular glee in pointing out this new discovery to his godfather.

One Friday in May, Harry held a crusty cauldron when he headed out the door, he didn't want to be late. That might raise questions on his whereabouts, and he didn't want to share this hidden treasure with them. It would mean that they would want to explore the room on their own, and **sharing**, and Harry was rather keen on the idea of his own secret room. It would be foolish to entrust them with this. He tossed the cauldron on a rickety table as he walked out, causing the legs to wobble and break, spilling its contents on the floor. He did not see the familiar, black diary that should have been tied to a beam in the Owlery.

He entered the room where everyone was gathered, resting himself on an empty chair next to some of the Hufflepuffs. Some of the chatter died off when they noticed him. "There you are Harry," said Susan. "We were wondering where you went."

"Eh, you know, around." Harry replied, making a swirling motion with his finger. "I felt like having some time for myself. It's been a sort of hectic year."

"Harry, is everything okay?" Neville tentatively asked. Harry's eyes narrowed at Neville.

"Yes. Everything is fine. I don't know where you got the impression that something was wrong," he responded tersely. Neville raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

"I just thought I would ask. We really haven't seen much of you this year."

"That's what I've been telling him!" Ron said. "See, I'm not alone in this Harry. You need to quit avoiding us, some people might think your not friends with us after all. Keeping secrets and going off by yourself, some might think you are just using us to help you win the Tournament and all." Harry rolled his eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous. I didn't even end up using your help in the Tournament."

"Now you think we're worthless!" Su exclaimed. Harry looked at her, noting that her smiling face, but serious eyes. Even though it was said as a joke, a part of her was concerned. The others seemed to have the same body language that she did, they had been talking about him. He would have to spend more time with his classmates, lest they think he doesn't find them valuable. It might even have the added bonus of diverting their questions of where he has been vanishing.

"I didn't say that, Su. Tell you what, I promise that I'll let you guys help me out with the last task. And I don't have to take the end of year exams, so I'll help you study for it." Ron's face turned to satisfaction and let Harry know that he succeeded.

On the last week of May McGonagall informed he was supposed to report to the Quidditch field at night to learn about the third task. The other champions were already there when he arrived, standing in the middle of a large sort of obstacle course and Cedric was looking quite indignant.

"Can you believe what they've done to the Quidditch field?" he asked Harry. Looking past his shoulder, he could see some low hedges poking from the ground. Between this and the new stadium, the pitch was unrecognizable from the year previous.

"Hello! Sorry I'm late, had a bit of business to attend to." Ludo Bagman strolled over, awkwardly stepping over the obstacles in his way. "Now in a month or so these things will be fully grown, can you tell what your last task will be?" Harry looked at Bagman suspiciously, there was a certain joyfulness in his manner that had not been present when he saw him last.

"Maze," grunted Victor.

"That's right, a maze! The Triwizard Cup will be placed right here, and whoever is the first to reach it will win. The Champions with the most points will start first, ending with Mr. Potter. There will be obstacles in the way, spells, enchantment, magical creatures, and so forth so you will all have a sporting chance. Should be fun, eh?"

Harry gave a sigh of relief, this sounded easy. He had traveled to many cities before, and it was important to have a keen sense of direction when in an unfamiliar area. He would need to find a spell so he could monitor his directions, a compass of some sort. Bagman pulled out a scroll from his robe.

"The following are rules to the tournament. The participant must compete when signaled by the lead judge, and not by any other person. The participant must stay within the boundaries of the maze, and the paths that it creates. There will be no property damage. The participant must complete the task on their own, and that includes gaining any outside help from ghosts, creatures, fellow students and so forth. The participant must not sabotage the other contestants by causing physical damage prior and during the third task or hindering their preparations. Is that all clear?"

The champions nodded, and Harry wondered how many loopholes he could find, aware the gradual rise of regulations was his doing.

As the others walked away, Harry counted his steps. Knowing how large the maze was would help him as well, at least in terms of figuring out how large it would be. There were also certain myths about mazes that would help Harry in preparation. Harry was pleased that this time around, Bagman did not seem interested in helping him cheat. Victor however, was dawdling at a sedate pace.

"Could I haff a vord?" he asked.

"Certainly." Harry responded, walking towards Hagrid's hut, he wanted to have some words to him about the maze.

"I vant to know, vot there is between you and Hermy-own-ninny." Harry who was looking at the Forbidden Forest just behind him, gave Victor his full attention. That was not the question he was expecting. Victor was quite close to him, glowering down at Harry, and he was suddenly reminded that the Durmstrang Champion spent a great deal of time with a professional Quidditch team.

"Nothing. That witch was just making things up, and even if I was interested in her, Hermione would not do that sort of thing. Surely you've noticed what sort of person she is."

Victor gave Harry an appraising sort of look, and Harry didn't budge from the eye contact. Then he nodded and spoke.

"You a very brave person. I vos vatching the first task, I thought that you deserved more points."

"Thanks," said Harry, grinning broadly. "I saw you at the Quidditch World Cup. That means…" The words that Harry was going to say faded away, because all of his sense came alert at once, and the setting sun wasn't the only thing to catch an orange tinge to the world. There was a rustle behind them, and Harry flicked out his wand quickly, tugging Victor's arm to move him backwards.

"Vot is it?"

" I don't know, but there are many dangerous things in the forest."

A man came out from the oak trees, looking crumbled, disarrayed and exhausted. After recovering from his shock, he recognized him as Mr. Crouch, looking far from the prim man he first met. Victor asked a few questions, but Harry ignored him, instead approaching him until he was close enough to hear the muttering.

".. and when you're done with that, Weatherby, send an owl to Dumbledore confirming the number of Durmstrang students who will be attending the tournament, Karkaroff has just sent word there will be twelve.."

"Mr. Crouch?" he asked concerned. He did not look well at all, his eyes bulging so they looked like they would pop out of his sockets. They reminded Harry a bit of fish eyes.

"Vot is wrong with him?"

"I think he's gone mad. We better get him inside."

"Dumbledore!" He tried to grasp Harry's robes, but he moved back swiftly, so he clung to Krum instead. "I need to see Dumbledore! I've done a stupid thing." Victor was looking quite alarmed now, giving a wide-eyed look to Harry.

"Dumbledore's inside the castle, we'll take you to him." Harry said somewhat desperately, Crouch was huddled on the forest floor and didn't seem to want to follow.

"Who… you?" he whispered letting go of Victor, wobbling towards Harry.

"I'm Harry Potter, a student at Hogwarts." Mentioning the school seemed to get a positive reaction.

"You're not… _his_?" whispered Crouch. Harry stiffed when he heard the stress of the last word. It held the same sort of fear and misery he gave to _them_, the two assassins.

"Warn… Dumbledore. I… Thank you Weatherby, and when you have done that…" Crouch's attention slipped again and began to converse with a nearby tree. Harry felt like an idiot then. (Orange was for insanity.) He was trying to talk coherently to a crazy person, no wonder he wasn't getting anywhere. He should have known better. He didn't know what it was that made the man go around the deep end, but he knew that Crouch's madness was keeping him sane. And Harry could work with that.

"Mr. Crouch, do you like the fish?" he asked, hoping that he was taking the right angle, gesturing to Victor to tell him he had not lost his mind too. Crouch look up at this.

"The fish? Yes, I see them, you see them too?"

"Sometimes. Right now you are talking to turnips, but what I think you really want to do is talk to the bearded man." Crouch was nodding enthusiastically.

"Right, well then all you need to do is following the fish. They sing pretty songs, you know. And all of the pretty songs mean something, and if you really pay attention, they you will be able to find what you seek. Ignore the jackal, it won't attack you if you are nice." Crouch was looking above Harry now, and was walking a quick, direct path back to the castle. Harry and Krum had to jog to keep up with his brisk pace.

"Vot did you say? I did not understand vot you meant, and I haff not seen a jackal in the school," Victor asked, his wand still out.

"I have no idea. But Crouch is mad, so I just said some nonsense to see if it would get him inside, ot looks like it worked." Harry said feeling rather pleased. Victor shot him an impressed look.

Crouch led them successfully most of the way before they encountered anyone, that person happened to be Snape. Harry hoped that he had come from Dumbledore's office, which meant he would be in. Crouch stopped, and shuffled nervously before Harry and Victor, before giving a short bow to Snape.

"Good evening to you, Sir Jackal"

It was all Harry could do to not laugh, and arranged his face in a bewildered expression. Victor however, had no such compunction, and let out a deep chuckle.

"Ve haff found our jackal, Potter!" he said joyously. Harry decided at that point that he like Victor for playing along, it really should be expected from a Quidditch player. Victor gave a nod to Snape before following Crouch down the hallway, leaving Harry to deal with Snape's foul mood. Harry decided that he hated the Durmstrang champion as well.

"What are you doing here, Potter?"

"Victor and I were going inside after learning about the third task when Mr. Crouch showed up in the forest like _that_," he said gesturing Crouch's direction "and it took ages for us to get him to come inside. There's something wrong with him."

Snape gave him an unreadable look before speaking. "I've gathered that much, Potter. I will handle this, back to your common room."

"What? No way! You can't cut me out of this!" Harry was silently cursing his luck

"To your Common Room Potter!"

Harry took looked at his Head of House for a moment, then tore off towards Dumbledore's office anyway. He would deal with the consequences later. He caught up just as they were reaching the gargoyles.

"Pepper Imps." Crouch said clearly, and the doorway appeared. The entered and Harry could see Snape's dumbstruck expression when it closed once more. When reaching the top, Harry knocked on the door speaking to the both of them.

"Right, well Dumbledore's office is full of distractions, so let's try to keep focused," he said, recalling time when he met with Sirius. Krum nodded, while Crouch just twisted his hands, reminding Harry of Winky last summer.

"Come in." Dumbledore's voice called out, and the three of them entered. The only other person in the room was Moody. "Goodness, Mr. Crouch. What brings you here today? In fact, have a seat, you look quite ill,"said Dumbledore. Harry thought that was quite the understatement.

"Twelve O.W.L.s, can you believe it? I am very proud, thank you, thank you." Crouch began again. Snape entered the room when he was speaking, glancing around the room before addressing Dumbledore directly.

"It is past curfew time, despite his status as a Triwizard Champion, I do not believe it is necessary for Potter to be here." Dumbledore was ignoring Snape however, instead peering intently at Crouch who was now speaking to a paperweight. Victor spoke up.

"He vas like this, vhen ve found him. He said he vanted to talk with you."

"That was when he was the sanest, when he said your name, He seemed terrified Professor Dumbledore." Harry agreed. Dumbledore looked at both of them, and opened his mouth to say something, pausing when Crouch jerked and wrapped his hands in Harry's robes, speaking to Harry in a fearful whisper.

"She said you knew her. _Mania."_ Harry's mouth opened when he recognized the description of Delirium, and wondered why Mr. Crouch had lost his marbles. He recalled the few time he had seen her among the masses, and the explanation clicked, _The Imperious Curse._

Crouch grew limp, and collapsed on the floor. Harry raised his head, to find that Dumbledore, Moody, and Snape had withdrawn their wands, stunning Crouch. Harry was escorted back to Slytherin by Snape, and Victor by Moody.

Harry was annoyed that he was cut out of the action, and hoped someone would perform an Unforgivable on him to find out some answers, maybe Del would share. But answers came the next day when he was called up by Snape into Dumbledore's office. He was bewildered to find Sirius waiting for him.

"Harry, I would like to tell you that we have discovered who put your name into the Goblet of Fire." Harry looked at Dumbledore with interest, but it was Sirius who answered his unspoken question.

"It was Crouch's son, the one I told you about during the summer. I thought he died, but it turns out that he was hiding under an invisiblity cloak after his mother smuggled him out. Crouch Sr. had him under the Imperious Curse, but after 13 years he finally managed to fight it, he confessed to being the one who set off the Dark Mark at the Quidditch match. It was only Death Eaters who knew that spell anyway."

"But why did he put my name in the cup?" Harry asked with confusion.

"Barty Crouch Jr. believed that he could resurrect Voldemort by placing your name in the cup. He was extremely uncooperative when we interrogated him with Veristerum, for the most part his sentences were incomprehensible. But one thing that he repeated over and over was this. 'The fall of Potter is the rise of The Dark Lord.' We believe that he chose to enter you in the tournament, and your death would result in Voldemort regaining his powers." Catching the look on Harry's face, Dumbledore shook his head.

"Barty Crouch was mistaken, you are each your own person with your own talents. Despite the fact you can speak Parsletongue and you share the same house, you are not interchangeable people."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, and hoped that most people did not follow the same line of thinking that Barty Crouch Jr. did. He waved a goodbye, and headed back to the common room. There was a long list of hexes to learn before the third task. Fortunately there was no lack of volunteers to help him.


	30. Ch 28 The Fall of the Golden Wall

**Chapter Twenty-****Eight**

**The Fall of the Golden Wall**

_**Is there something you crave? Something sexual? Something precious? Someone special? Anything? Then you have felt it. It's there- in the longing, in the lust: The breath of Desire, the caress of The Threshold.**_

A Description of Desire's realm-_The Doll's House.

* * *

  
_

The news about the Crouch family came out slowly over the next week. The father had resigned from the Ministry, claiming that now was as good as time as any to seek retirement. There was no mention of the half thought out plan that Barty Jr. did not attempt, nor any indication of why he thought such a thing would succeed. Harry was glad that the mystery was solved, and no longer had to spend his time wondering who put his name in the cup. He spent the rest of June studying so he would be able to navigate the maze.

It was a pity, he was trailing Victor by three points, Fleur by eight and Cedric by sixteen. It was Cedric's strong performance in the first task that gave him the lead, and he didn't lose much in the second because he was the first to reach his hostage without the use of an enchanted ship. But Harry had been preparing for this task for most of the year thanks to Lupin's booklist. Navigating a maze required a certain amount of luck, preparation and an ability to adapt. Harry had nearly memorized his copy of _Magical Beasts and Where to Find Them_, uncertain of what Hagrid would provide. He already picked up the Stunning Spell, a Shield spell, and several ways he could blast his way through. He borrowed some catalogs and ordered some Quidditch gear to protect him from unnecessary bumps and bruises. And thanks to a suggestion by Blaise, he purposely got himself a detention in the hospital wing. While Madam Pomphrey went off to attend to a second year who tried to hex her pimples off, Harry made off with some healing potions and ointments.

All of his people volunteered to help him win the task, adding to his notebook of spells, while Harry spent a great deal of time hexing Ernie, Ron and Terry. Blaise had wisely backed off from such a display of loyalty. Harry found it amusing to watch them break out with strange pustules, or fall unconscious, and thought it strange that they volunteered to help. Perhaps some of his classmates were secretly masochists, or they liked the idea of being a part of something larger than their own little lives. So long as Harry ended up better off, their motivations were not important.

Harry was especially pleased when Seamus came forward and gave him some vials filled with explosive liquid. Fred caught sight of the hand off, and his face turned unusually grim.

"Careful with those Harry. By themselves they make a good deal of smoke and noise, but when you mix them together it can be a disaster. George and I almost blasted off Lee's arm one day. It only happens if the potions are directly exposed to fire, but we all know how you feel about fire." Harry looked at Fred skeptically before placing them in his pocket.

* * *

_Harry was standing along the shore of the ocean, and in front of him a tall, thin man appeared. "Do you remember the truth of stories?" the man asked. His face did not have normal eyes, instead they glimmered like dark stars._

"_I think so." Harry replied, his toes curling around the grains of sand beneath his feet._

"_Heroes have enemies to vanquish, and challenges to face. If they did not, there would be no glory in their stories." Harry nodded his understanding to Dream's explanation. "Harry Potter, you must not forget the truth of stories." Harry's breathe caught as he realized what Dream was trying to tell him. _

"_No! It's too soon, I'm not ready!" He turned around and ran away. The feeling of sand vanished from his feet, and he realized he was flying in the air. How odd, it shouldn't be possible for him to fly. Harry looked down at himself; his arms had faded away, changing into wings. He had turned into a duck. He barely had time to register his surprise, when he heard Dream speak once more._

"_Remember your responsibilities._"

Harry woke up, banging his head against the metal snake bedpost. He rubbed at the bump on his head and tried to remember what he was dreaming. He distinctly remembered the sensations of soaring in the sky.... as a duck? The thoughts were vanishing like delicate spider webs. Harry shook his head as he crawled to his trunk to search through the contents. He still had that rubber duck somewhere in the bottom. He tugged it out, causing it to make a small squeaking noise. Vincent grunted, and Draco shifted in his bed, but no one awoke. Harry held the duck in his hand waiting for the dream to come back to him. None came. Shrugging, Harry placed the duck back into the trunk, and lay back in his bed. It was the day of the final task. Perhaps he should sleep in.

Harry arrived to breakfast late, and he found Sirius talking with Professor McGonagall at the Head Table. He rubbed his eyes, grabbed a piece of toast and made his way over to his godfather who was rising up to greet him.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked in bewilderment.

"I've come to see you in the final task. The other champions have their family as well." Sirius opened up the door to the antechamber, and let Harry inside. He caught a glimpse of the other champions families, all of them looking with pride at their the children. The bittersweet thought of his own parents flicked in his mind before he swatted the thought away. It was no use to get sentimental. Sirius led Harry over to the parents, and introduced him. Harry felt awkward as he was introduced, Harry couldn't really recall a traditional introduction before. He was a bit astonished that the fond note of satisfaction in Sirius' voice. Uncomfortable with the emotions welling in him, he searched around the room for a distraction. He found it on a portrait on the wall, the female resident was batting its eyes rapidly at Sirius. He nudged Sirius in the ribs, and gave a discrete toss of his head. Catching sight of the two-dimensional female, Sirius rapidly drew his conversation with Mr. Diggory to a close.

"Harry, I'm certain you are nervous about the task. Why don't we go around the school, help get your mind off of things," Sirius said loudly, placing his hand on Harry's arm to steer him out of the room. Amused, Harry allowed him to be dragged along, but did not restrain his snickers. Giving Harry a glare, Sirius demanded, "Harry, care to show me where this mysterious room is? I've been dying to know where it is every since you mentioned it in your letter a few months ago. I wish I had remembered to ask about it the other day."

"It's just as well, it would have been hard to explain to Dumbledore or anyone else why you were following me down hallways. It's across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy." They walked down the empty hallways, most of the students stuck in classes for their exams. It was a shame that the first year Harry had a chance to ace his exams; he was given a free pass. Still, next year was O.W.L.s; so it couldn't hurt.

"This is it," Harry said, waving his hand grandly over the blank space of wall. "Want to have the honors?" Sirius nodded and walked over to the other end of the hallway, muttering to himself. Harry rolled his eyes at his antics.

"You don't have to say anything out loud. And hurry up, I don't want people to see us standing here, they will want to know what we are doing." A door appeared on the wall, and Sirius stopped walking, choosing to stare at the door. Harry wondered what surroundings his godfather had imagined and wretched the door open himself.

"That's it?" He spun around to look at Sirius. The room was bare, save only for two rickety chairs, and an upside down bucket. "I show you the most amazing room in Hogwarts and this is the best you could come up with?" Sirius, on the other hand looked absolutely delighted.

"Ah, young Harry, you understand so little. You see," Sirius placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and waved his hand in a majestic motion. "I was testing the limits of this room. Something so wondrous as this must be explored properly. Yes, I thought of three specific things, and here they are. I asked for two chairs, but not any two chairs." He walked over to one of them and flipped it over. "These two chairs are the ones that your father and I stole from an empty classroom. We would practice our spell work on them, I can't even think of how many times we mended them. We even put our names on the bottom, so we could claim we brought them from home with us in case McGonagall caught us."

Harry looked at the chair seat, and saw Sirius' name awkwardly on the bottom. "It looks like it was written by a three year old."

Sirius gave Harry a chastising look. "Of course. How else could we explain that we brought the chairs from home? Clearly, I had fond feelings for the chair in my childhood, and couldn't come to Hogwarts without it. James had the same experience and when we discovered our similarity, we forged an instant friendship." Harry snorted.

"Also, this green bucket is the one that Remus used to throw up in every month. There wasn't any Wolfsbane potion back then, and the nurse would give him a tonic of some kind to make him heal faster." Sirius eyes grew misty. "The things that we did with that vomit…"

"Okay, I get it. Relics from your past. You can take them if you want, I'm sure no one will mind." Harry wrinkled his nose at the bucket as Sirius tucked it under his arm.

"Third…" Sirius continued, only to be interrupted by Harry.

"Third? I don't see anything else it this room!" Sirius gave Harry a smug look.

"THIRD, I wanted to see if this room would make another secret passage out of Hogwarts." He jerked his head to the right. "We always thought that there had to be at least one more way out of here and searched high and low. We only found six, but seven passages into Hogsmeade would have made much more sense if you consider the properties of Arithmacy and the Founders precision in building the castle. The one under the Whomping Willow didn't count because it was built when Remus came and it's located on the castle grounds, not directly into the school itself. It looks like we were right." He opened the door that had appeared, and peered into the hallway, holding his lit wand into the darkness. Harry clutched his head to keep from cheering like a four-year-old girl, a new exit out of the school never occurred to him.

"I wonder where it goes? All of the other exists were tied to buildings that went back all the way to the founding of Hogsmeade, and most of those were stores. I suppose we'll have to check it out later. It's almost time for the last task to start." He headed out the door, and Harry followed in his wake, still reeling at the golden door Sirius had shown him. "Are you nervous?" Harry shook his head.

"Nah, I don't really have anything to lose, not after facing a dragon." The door to the Room of Requirement vanished when they went back into the hallway.

"Mischief managed." Harry replied dryly. Sirius let out a bark of laughter, twirling the bucket in his hands.

* * *

Harry stood at the entrance of the maze with the other champions, waiting for Bagman's return. It was his job to place the trophy in the middle of the maze, at it seems that he got lost at some point as Moody was screaming directions in order to help him out. Cedric was shifting next to him, and gave a nervous laugh.

"If I had known it was going to take this long for Bagman, I would have run up to my room and got my Quidditch gear." Victor had followed Harry's train of thought as well, and wore his knee and elbow pads. Fleur did not, although she seemed to be whispering incantations under her breath. Harry gave Cedric a small smile.

"Cedric, I have a bit of advice for you." Cedric looked at Harry warily, before tilting his head to show he was listening. "Run. Run as fast as you can, because before you know it, I'm going to be right behind you, and then I'll be right next to you. And then I'll win." Cedric gave him a skeptical glance.

"What makes you so certain?"

"Because I already know how to get to the middle." Cedric's eyes widened, but before he could say anything, Bagman emerged from the maze, looking around for a second before realizing that he finally made it out. Moody stomped over to him angrily.

"You've been holding up the task!" Bagman cleared his throat and gave Moody a nervous look.

"Yes, well, my apologies. You ready then Cedric?" At the nod, Bagman raised his wand to begin the final segment of the Triwizard Tournament. One minute later, the whistle blew and Cedric raced off into the hedges. A few minutes later Fleur jogged in, then Krum strode in with purpose. Harry had settled himself onto the grass, comfortable with his own advantage. At Bagman's final whistle, he stretched, got up from the ground, and dusted the grass off of his pants before ambling inside the maze.

The sounds of the crowd faded away as the shrubs towered over him, and Harry stuck his hand into the pouch that Sirius had brought him. It was enchanted like his robe pockets, but Harry had asked Sirius for a spare, afraid that the robes would get caught on the unknown items in the maze. Finding his wand, he muttered.

"_Point me."_ The wand spun lazily in his hand, before it pointed to his right, directly into a hedge. Harry gave a smirk. After Snape had escorted him to the Slytherin dungeons after Crouch's arrival, Harry prepared for the third task by grabbing his Omnoculors and broom. A few hours later he went up to the Astronomy tower, and made a quick trip over the maze. He spent a full week drawing out and memorizing the direct path to the center. The version saved on his Omnoculors was poor; the moonlight wasn't very strong that night, but it more than the others had. The next day they had raised some sort of ward around the Quidditch Stadium to prevent unauthorized people from entering. Harry supposed that Crouch's arrival under the Imperious curse was the only thing that prevented it from happening immediately.

He jogged down the paths, and continued to use the location spell to get a sense of his direction. Bit by bit, he could see the maze being drawn in his mind. He turned to his right, and found his first challenge. There were twelve stones of different colors placed on the ground, each having a different rune on it. Harry walked up to the first stone and step on it lightly. He yelped when a shock of electricity went through his body. Rubbing his leg he glared at the rune. He did not know how to pass the puzzle because he did not take Ancient Runes. Harry raised his wand and casting a slicing charm on the hedge next to him. He wasn't going to spend his time going over a time-wasting exercise when he was this far behind.

He wiggled himself into the small cut he made head first, but it wasn't until he got halfway through that he realized that something was wrong. The hedge began to squeeze him, and vines wrapped around his wrists, preventing him from fully emerging on the other let out a blast of fire from his wand, hoping that it would make the vine let him go. It worked, but now Harry found himself suspended in the air by nothing, and his head thumped onto the ground. Wiggling out of it, he clutched the crown of his head, still sensitive from where he bumped it in the morning. He got up once more, and scowled at the shrub. Sprout had planted some Devil's Snare along the regular bushes to prevent anyone from burning their way through. Staying on the paths was one of the rules; he shouldn't have been so dismissive of the stones and faced the challenge.

The next thing Harry faced was a boggart, which turned into him, before fading away into dark shadows. Harry was confused by it's meaning, the boggart hadn't done anything, but stare at him with a blank expression. He jogged forward, leaving the dust of the boggart behind him, no realizing that he was frightened of himself. It wasn't long until he found his next obstacle, a gold glowing curtain of light. He cast a few charms at it, but he could sense no obvious danger. This made him wary but gritting his teeth, he stepped forward, and his world spun upside down.

The change of perspective startled him, and his glasses nearly dropped off his nose as the spell threatened to drop him in the sky. He was confused, uncertain of what to do. And then he saw a fish float by him. The fish was familiar, he had seen them when he was given the memory charm, and Crouch had spoken of them to Harry outside the forest. He reached for it, and it floated back, just beyond his reach. He hesitated, and then took another step forward.

And then everything was normal, but the fish was still floating above him, waving its large pink and silver fin. It gave a fish wink, (which is the cutest type of wink) and floated down the path and Harry followed.

"Follow me, I'll lead you where you **need **to go."

"This is cheating," he thought to the fish.

"No it isn't," Mimi the fish said. "There are others like me out there that are more than happy to help the others. Everyone is so very confused, it is easy to find us if they try. It's their own fault they don't follow. There so many ways you can go. I think I'm going to take you the longest way."

"That won't help me win."

"The way you are trying to go is filled with dangers and distractions. If you follow me, you'll get there before everyone else."

The hedges around Harry had begun to change into something else, growing smaller and wilder, but the direction to go was still clearly defined. And the walls disappeared, and Harry noticed that he was no longer in the maze at Hogwarts. There were statues along these new walkways, and in every step Harry took, the world around him shifted. Mimi seemed unconcerned by the changes, leading Harry with confidence.

"What path will you choose Harry Potter?" The voice' which did not belong to anyone Harry recognized, came from a blind man wearing a brown cloak. It was someone from Harry's dreams, but he couldn't quite come up with the name. How had he ended up here next to this stranger?

Looking at his surroundings properly for the first time. He found himself standing next to statues the size of mountains, one carved for each of the Endless. He could see them all, although one had his back turned. Harry narrowed his eyes at the turned back, unable to tell if he had met that member of the family before. He thought there were only six of them to begin with. He rubbed his hands nervously, and spoke to the one in front of him.

"Um… I… who are you?" Harry asked, bewildered by his appearance in the realm of one of the Endless.

"I am Destiny of the Endless. What path will you choose?" he asked once again, pointing out the choices at Harry's feet. There were three that branched off, and even from where Harry was standing he could see that they separated soon, and twisted and turned into directions unknown.

"I don't know. The one that gets me where I need to be, I suppose. Do you recommend one?" Harry asked politely.

"I am Destiny. I do not recommend, I merely observe what happens and what will." Harry blinked.

"Well, that's boring. In that case, I think I'll just go my own way." Harry gave a small nod to Destiny, and stepped off the gravel path, shimmering away in a new direction.

A strong wind came and flipped to the next page of Harry Potter's life in Destiny's book.

"_There is no right and wrong. There is only power and those to weak to seek it." Voldemort said, his face twisted into a cruel smirk._

_The phrase was familiar to Harry, but there was a slight alteration to it. He had gone over it many times, and it helped get through some of his more difficult days. _

"_You added a 'k,'" Harry mumbled._

Destiny felt some trepidation when he realized the rest of the page was blank.

* * *

Harry found himself in familiar surroundings once more facing a sphinx. It gave Harry several options, and if he solved the riddle, he would take the short path forward to the cup. Mimi floated before him and waggled her fin.

"Logic, hmph!" And with that she blipped away. Then the sphinx spoke, and when Harry heard the riddle and burst out in a broad grin. He just might kiss Terry if it all worked out well, thinking of the riddle book he had received over Christmas.

"A spider."

The sphinx nodded and moved out of the way. Elated, Harry continued, the maze was almost complete in his mind now, and he continued to run. A corner was coming now, and he saw another champion, Fleur. She was running towards Harry, which he thought of extremely odd. She sprinted past him, and Harry saw that an enormous spider was chasing her. Aghast, he began to run away to catching up with Fleur.

"Why didn't you stun it?"

"I tried, it did not work!" her face was crumpled in annoyance.

"Together perhaps?" Harry touched her shoulder as he said this and she slowed down, giving him a nod. Then both raised their wands, and as they were about to cast the spell, there was a horrible screeching noise. The hedge next to them burst into flames, and Krum rolled out of the bushes, elegantly removing his cloak that was on fire without stopping his run. Alarmed, Harry backed away and sure enough, another beast emerged from the hole. Now there were two spider's and Harry swore.

He was going to kill Hagrid.

The three champions ran into a dead end and they all spun around, attempting to do what one could not. Together, three champions of the greatest schools of Europe proved their mettle.

"_Stupefy_." And one of the spiders fell, but the second still approached. The three called out the spell again, but it had learned from its counterpart, and agilely avoided the jets of red. Then it was too late. Harry managed to move out if its way, but it knocked over Fleur, and managed to grasp Krum between it pincers. Spells were flashing out of Krum's wand connecting with the spider and it let him go, shrieking with pain. It tumbled heavily toward the ground, and Fleur barely managed to get out of the way. Harry was trapped behind the spider, after pressing himself into the hedge in order to avoid it. The weight of the hairy acromantula was crushing him and the brambles of the hedge poked into his ribs. He may have cracked a few, it was difficult to breath and he felt some the cuts well with blood. The vines of Devil's Snare begin to wrap around him once more, and Harry felt irritation rise. He had been doing so well, until the others arrived.

With the spider blocking his way, Harry had no choice but to burn the plants next to him. The hedge burned away, and Harry felt the fire flick on his skin, as he attempted to free his hand. Finally, he landed in an undignified flop on the ground, grateful that there were no other magical creatures to surprise him. He removed his glove, and wiggled his fingers. Dipping his hand into his pocket he pulled out a jar and dapped the substance across his hand. Unfortunately, Harry had not thought of stealing some sort of burn cream from the hospital wing. The skin would begin to blister very soon; he needed to finish this. Brushing the leaves out of his hair Harry whispered the location spell again. The wand pointed to his chest, and he knew exactly where he was, the map in his mind clearly drawn. He broke out to a run. And then he heard footsteps thumping on the ground, they lacked Victor's weight and Fleur's grace.

The hedge that separated them vanished, and Cedric's eyes widened when he saw Harry, clearly surprised the warning had come true. Cedric's long legs gave him an advantage as he pushed himself harder, gaining a lead on Harry. Harry felt his face grimace in annoyance, if it weren't for the spider he would have won by now. That was what he got for being helpful. Cedric was close now, and Harry used the last vestiges of his energy to catch up, his breathing strained from the pain in his ribs. Then they could see the Triwizard Cup sitting on a pedestal, gleaming in the dull light. It was like a golden siren, and for the first time Harry wasn't just competing because he was forced, or to wipe the smug smiles off of the champions.

He _**wanted**_ it.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

In a giant temple made of flesh, Desire heard a shattering noise, and walked over to her prize. Sitting on a nearby table was Harry's heart, and the small wall in which he enclosed around his heart had developed a small crack. She picked it up, and dug her fingernail in the opening, chipping away the boundary that had vexed him for three years. The incident with the Mirror of Erised had been a disaster, and she wasn't pleased. Harry had almost been hers forever, and then he had closed himself off completely, without a sign of relenting. Harry was perfectly content to drift through life existing, content with what he already had, and that was incredibly insulting to Desire. It had waited for a crack to appear, keeping the heart close in case Harry would break down. And finally, it looked as if Harry couldn't resist.

The ghost of Harry's voice emerged from the large hole Desire made, floating in the giant lungs of Desire's realm.

"_I want to win_."

Desire got a firm grasp of the wall, and peeled it off with a flourish, tossing it dismissively at her feet, where it sank into the floor. She had Harry's heart once more, and a smile flashed across her face as he brushed his lips across the surface.

"You want to win? Oh, Harry. I think you'll be wanting so much more than that very soon."

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The squeezing in his chest came a mere moment after the jerking sensation of the Portkey. And as his world exploded in a whirl of color, wind and movement, Harry knew that he had made himself incredibly vulnerable, perhaps in more way than one. He could feel Cedric's elbow jab into his shoulder, and a flare of adrenaline rushed into his veins as he realized the Cup was the same gleaming color of Desire's eyes.

Cedric and Harry landed painfully on the ground. They got up, and looked around. It appeared as if they were in a graveyard. Harry felt tense.

"Did anyone tell you that the Cup was supposed to be a Portkey?" Cedric questioned. Harry shook his head.

"No, and I don't think it was supposed to be either, not after that business with the Crouches. We should try to go back." He heard a shuffling motion behind him, there was a wizard coming their direction, carrying something odd in his arms. Backing away, Harry headed towards the cup, glad that Cedric was holding his wand out too. They both bent down for the Portkey, and suddenly Harry's head felt as if it was on fire, a piecing pain arose. He heard a voice mutter, "Kill the spare." There a noise like the wind, a bright green light appeared shone beneath his clenched eyes, and he could smell something sharp in the air. Harry collapsed to the ground, angry and confused of why.

He felt a hand grasp his arm and drag him away. Between the tasks and the pain in his head, fatigue had settled on Harry. He was tied to a statue quickly, the ropes were pressed against his broken ribs uncomfortably. As the man walked away to attend to something else, Harry tried to regain his senses, he blinked his eyes rapidly and strained his neck to find out what was going on. A jolt shook his body when he realized that Cedric had taken the Portkey.

He had left Harry behind.


	31. Ch 29 The Four Lessons Redux

**Chapter Twenty-Nine **

**The Four Lessons Redux**

**

* * *

  
**

I've got a job to do, and I do it. Listen: even as we're talking, I'm there for old and young, innocent and guilty, those who die together and those who die alone. I'm in cars and boats and planes; in hospitals and forests and abattoirs. For some folks death is a release, and for others death is an abomination, a terrible thing.

**But in the end, I'm there for all of them.**

Death in _Dream Country_

_

* * *

  
_

Harry could see the wizard who had tied him to the statue now, his face lit with malice. He recognized him dimly as the man who had tried to kill the Hippogriff last year. McDougall? Mac-Something or Other. There a bundle of blankets on the ground, and an immense snake coiled near it.

The man had revealed a giant cauldron, and Harry thought dimly of _The Wizard and the Hopping Pot_, but then he caught sight of that thing wrapped in the cloths. It wasn't a child like Harry first thought, and he could barely keep the bile in this throat from rising. A solution bubbled, and ingredients were being added, he recognized the pearly glow of unicorn blood, and Harry knew whom the false baby was. Who else would dare to live a half life? The man took Voldemort and placed him in the cauldron, and Harry wished with all of his might that it would drown.

"Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son." The grave under Harry's feet cracked, and dust rose from it, and settled in the cauldron, turning it blue.

(_Blue is Illusion, Voldemort wasn't a baby at all, and he would not drown in the Cauldron)_

"Flesh of the Servant, willingly given, you will revive your master." Harry knew what was going to happen, and he did not avert his eyes. He saw the hand sever from the arm, and land with a horrifying splash in the bubbling potion. The potion turned a glowing red. (_Red is life, Voldemort was so close now_.) Blood was pouring from the arm now, and the man wrapped up the stump after placing some sort of solution on it. Harry dimly registered that that solution would be useful, before the man stood before him.

"Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe". A blade cut Harry on his arm, and a vial came to collect the blood that was spilled. Harry was grateful that he hadn't gone for the neck.

Pouring it into the cauldron, the solution began to smoke, and turned a blinding white color. (_White, the color of new beginnings, oh sweet irony_) and a large cloud of white began to bubble from it. And then rose a man, or something like a man, with two legs and two arms, and Voldemort had risen once more. And Harry could feel him, the power, the hatred, the overwhelming amount of energy that he had at his power, and he heard his cold voice. He understood why people never said his name.

And for the first time in years, Harry felt fear.

He started to laugh, he couldn't believe that he, at age eleven, had thought he stood a match to this. His vow, to make Voldemort pay was a dream, no not a dream, less than that, a pathetic mockery of a dream. He tugged at the ropes holding him to the statue, and even with his skills, his training, he was not able to escape. A harsh truth hit him, he had over estimated himself.

Voldemort had gone over to talk to his servant, and Harry could not focus on what they were saying. There were some words, and the man lifted his undamaged arm, and Voldemort pressed his finger upon the skin. Then he approached Harry and spoke.

"You stand, Harry Potter, upon the remains of my late father." There were more words, but Harry wasn't listening much, all he could think of was how much he wanted to be anywhere but here. And then he was.

His mind swum and then he was laying on a plush cushion of velvet. Harry couldn't move, but he felt a soft caress of hand in cheek and a finger entwining in his hair. A pair of lips descended by on his ear that whispered in gentle tones.

"I warned you Harry. I tried to warn you at the dance, but you wouldn't listen. If you weren't so stubborn I wouldn't have had to take these steps. And what better way to make you feel again than bringing in the person most like you. Your very soul can feel how wrong everything about him is, I know it. But you are becoming so much a like him Harry, and I didn't want to loose you like I lost him. Of course, he was never as fascinating as _you_." Desire's tapped his cheek lovingly.

"But you got full of yourself, thinking that you could triumph over **me**! So I made a lesson for you Harry, a little lesson of humility to make you realize, you can't win against us. Things didn't have to turn out this way, I tried to lure you with fame, and fortune, and females, but you just had to go and be stubborn. And now look at the mess that you've gotten yourself in. I'm not so bad Harry, just close your eyes and taste what I have to offer."

Harry, with nothing else to do but feel the pounding of his heart, explored his desire.

There were whispers in the air, and the warm sensations of something indefinable, and he felt the effect of his mother's love, protecting him. He delved inside his own emotions, and he realized that he did care about other people, and recalled his earlier beliefs. He thought of them as expendable, and felt no guilt in hexing them to prepare for the third task. Somewhere along the line he had stopped thinking of them as friends, and started to think of them as obligations. There was a flicker of remorse, before he moved on. He recalled Sirius' grave face when the Dark Mark appeared, and the friendship that they shared. The feelings were rising again, and the warmth of belonging wrapped around him. He wished he could stay in The Threshold forever. But it would end.

It always ended.

That was enough to send him away from Desire's realm and once again into the crisp, cool world of Despair. Laying on the ground, he was completely hidden by the mist on the ground, but he was aware of the tug on his heart, The portrait of his mother was before him, her arms spread out, and the tears of in her eyes still frozen in place. There were tiny feet scuttling over his body. Despite the fact he was wearing shoes, he could feel the rats nibble on his toes.

He wanted to get away, away, and thaw himself out. He wanted to be away, and warm and like the sunshine, and so he journeyed to Delirium's realm for escape. He couldn't move there either as he attempted tried to run, but then he realized he didn't have any legs, that he had actually turned into a rubber duck.

"Delirium," he quacked amid the crayon colored skies. There was no reply, just the sound of money falling from the sky, the beating of his heart, and the sound of a thousand butterflies. And then there he was floating and swirling, pulled into a direction beyond his control. And he opened his eyes and saw himself, huddled on the ground and shaking. Shocked, he pressed his hands against his lips, chewed at his fingernails, and he didn't remember painting them. Words came from his mouth, as if there were someone else in control.

"**I** think **you** lost **yourself**."

…where was he again?

The rough texture of the statue at his back and the cruel stare of Voldemort reminded him. There were loud popping noises, and men in cloaks Apparated around the three. They all bent down to kiss the robes of the villain, before stepping back. They formed a circle around Harry who was trapped, a sitting duck. The world was a flat grey color, it still wasn't safe.

Voldemort was telling a story, but Harry could only hear snippets of words, drowning in his own fear and exhaustion. He didn't want to be here, he didn't want to be here, not one bit. And so he tried to pull away, except he didn't know how. If he could, he would have fallen apart, and maybe burst into a pile of marbles, or sheets of paper, or specks of dusk to get away. But he was human, and he was mortal, and he couldn't. So he did the next best thing, he pulled himself away, bit by bit. He dipped into the insanity, the shapeless blob of color residing in his mind. His madness would keep him sane, because the only other option was to face the truth of his nightmares. And Harry was not brave.

It wasn't fair, everything was going so well. He had stopped Quirrell, oh yes he had, and there was a song,and a swish and then the teachers was nothing but the diary, and Ginny, and the ink that wasn't really ink, but blood and there was a ghost girl in a bathroom, and proof of legends. And the forgetting, which wasn't good, but it all worked out again, because later on, he became whole again.

That was nice.

And everything was going so well, and he freed someone, well not really, the man freed himself, but now everyone wasn't trying to put him in a cage anymore, and that was good because Harry hated cages, even pretty ones.

And then the father, and the elf,and the son, who had been stuck in a cage of his own for years,

and didn't people know that cages aren't good. And everything should have been fine,

it should have been sunshine and rainbows, and Quidditch Games, so what went wrong?

And now he wasn't in a cage right now, there was a trap instead, and he could feel the ropes digging in his arm.

He didn't want to be here.

Harry desperately wished someone would help him, he wanted someone to come, anyone really. Just so he wouldn't be alone. He was tired of being alone.

Oh, but now he wasn't. Delirium was there, just outside the circle. She had one of her hands pressed to her lips, and was chewing her fingernails. He could see her mismatched eyes looking at him in anxiety. She was wearing that necklace, some kind of coin was hanging from it, and Harry thought it might be familiar. Del was saying something to him, but he couldn't quite hear anything.

_("**I** think **you** lost **yourself**.")_

And Harry remembered some things.

He remembered the rubber duck she gave him.

He remembered the rubber duck that sat in his trunk.

He remembered the single hug given to him, before second year, wishing he had the courage to return it.

He remembered the nine other ducks he gave to the Weasley's and wished that duck ten had been placed with theirs .

He desperately didn't want to be alone anymore, and he came to the realization that it was mostly his fault for pushing them away.

The uncertainty of his rekindled emotions were drowning him and he found it difficult to breathe. His heart was twisting, burning, causing him to feel raw and vulnerable. He cursed his Desire, his weakness, his humanity. But then if he wasn't human, what would he be? Would he be Voldemort. Voldemort, French for "flee from death." How stupid. You can't flee from Death, she was everything, and everywhere, and she was what made life real and special. He really didn't want to be like Voldemort, so he huddled on the ground, and missed people.

He appreciated Ron's jokes, and his lack of tact. He missed Daphne's biting comments, and the way she watched out for him. There was Hermione with her unexplainable love of books, and her naïve belief in rules. Neville's awkwardness tempered by his honesty, Ernie's pompousness, Sirius' loyalty, and the simple way that McGonagall looked out for him.

Voldemort was close, so close, and he placed a single finger upon Harry's cheek, and he hurt so much.

He hurt and hurt and hurt, and then it was gone, an eternity in one second. And he could hear laughter and he was laughing with them and he wasn't happy at all, but he really couldn't help it.

Because it wasn't funny at all,

but he tried to explain, because all of the Death Eaters were looking at him now.

He had never really been comfortable as the center of attention, he was too used to the shadows. So he tried to explain.

"I should have been a rubber duck." And they still looked at him strangely, and he tried to explain some more.

"Better a rubber duck, than a sitting duck." He wasn't supposed to be a sitting duck. There were mutterings and he knew they were talking behind his back, and if he was free, oh if he was free, he would do something about it, he wasn't quite certain what.

But it would **hurt**.

"Look at Potter shake. He knows that I am the most powerful wizard alive. Even now he trembles in fear," Voldemort said. Harry knew he was crazy, knew that sometimes the pieces were missing but the duck thing made sense, it really did. He knew that much.

"I'm rubber, you're glue, whatever you do, bounces off of me and sticks to you." He peered at Voldemort from beneath his hair. And then he laughed again, and he could feel, feel, feel their anxiety. (The Death Eaters would never admit it, but they were unsettled by the strange glow of Harry's eyes by the fire. A few months later, the Death Eaters would recognize the same sort of laugh from Bellatrix Lestrange, and they would shiver.)

Voldemort's eyes widen slightly at the taunt, his face slightly fearful, before covering in a mask of contempt.

"I miscalculated my friends, I admit it. My curse was deflected by the woman's foolish sacrifice, and it rebounded upon myself. What I was, even I did not know… I, who have gone further than anybody along the path that leads to immortality. You know my goal, to conquer death. And now, I was tested, and it appeared that one or more of my experiments worked… for I had not been killed, though the curse should have done it."

Harry felt his bonds loosen, and he fell to the ground, he knees shaking. He was tired, his ribs made it difficult to breath, and his hand had begun to blister. He turned around, looking at the Death Eaters that surrounded him. He couldn't really tell any of them apart, although he did recognize the signature Malfoy hair peeking out from a hood. A small part of Harry curled in anger, Draco was only a month older than Harry, and yet he was perfectly content to let him be tortured. He pointed his finger to all of them, damning them.

"Goose, Goose, Goose, Goose." Then in a moment of sheer inspiration, he pointed to himself. "Duck!"

_See! The duck thing does make sense. Their goose is cooked_, he told someone.

_**"I know, Harry."**_

The voice that spoke to him was familiar, achingly familiar, and he spun around trying to catch sight of who it was who spoke back to him. It wasn't Del, this voice was far more gentle and knowing.

"So, Harry Potter, you have one more choice, join me or die. I'm certain I could make some use for you. At least you have proven that I have remained, despite death's attempt to claim me." Voldemort hissed, his eyes glinting with amusement. Harry knew that an answer was required, gripping at his hair to remember how to speak, it took great effort to communicate.

"You, hurt people. I hurt. It's wrong."

"There is no right or wrong Potter. There is only power and those too weak to seek it," Voldemort said, his face twisted into a cruel smirk.

The phrase was familiar to Harry, but there was a slight alteration to it. He had gone over it many times, and it helped get through some of his more difficult days.

"You added a 'k'" Harry mumbled.

The Lessons. The near repetition of the familiar phrase helped to clear the fear that gripped his body, and the chaos that reigned in his mind. His mind grasped onto it, and the madness slipped from him. Harry looked at him, trying desperately to focus. Voldemort made no response.

"It's '**There is no right or wrong. There is only power and those to weak to see it.**'" A tablet next to Harry's bed said it, and the words and meanings behind them came easily. "You can't own power, you can only hope to know it."

_**"Well, aren't you just precious? It's so hard to find people who understand."**_

It was the voice again and now he could see the speaker. Death was sitting on a tombstone to Harry's left, and Del had moved to her side, looking less worried. Voldemort laughed.

"Such a fool Potter. If that were true, then I would not be alive. I was successful, not even death can touch me now." He saw Death's nose wrinkle at this and Harry felt a stab of loyalty, his voice growing stronger.

"You avoided Death. You won't stay forever; everything has an end," his voice becoming more assertive with every repetition.

**There are ways around everything, but perhaps not in the way you desire**.

Voldemort looked angry at this, and he could feel a small shift from the other Death Eaters.

"McNair, give him his wand." The man who had attacked Harry came forward, and Harry had a fleeting impulse to stab him in the neck with a knife.

"You have been taught how to duel, Harry Potter?"

He thought vaguely of the Dueling Club that Lockhart held, and snorted.

"We bow to each other Harry, the niceties must be observed…. Bow to death Harry." The Death Eaters were laughing again, and Harry, still wobbly and a bit loopy turned to his left. If he had been sane, he would have not obliged. He could see her sitting on a tombstone, a small smile on her lips.

**Death is the force of equality, look into its eyes and stand proud. **

The glow from the cauldron fire made her hair sheen. He bowed to her deeply, and he was barely aware of her bright laughter before it was drowned out by Voldemort's angry voice.

"Do you find death funny Potter?" He looked at Death, she had placed her elbows on her knees and shook her head.

"I don't know her very well." Harry was turning to face Voldemort when the Cruciatus Curse struck and pain, horrible pain crawled into his bones once more. Then it was over, and he sat there shaking on the ground, wand useless at his feet.

But pain was something familiar to Harry, and it cleared the last mists of his fear away. The final lesson came to his mind.

**To know yourself, is to be powerful. To know others, is to be wise. To know both is to be a gift.**

Like a paintbrush on a blank canvas, Harry found himself again. What was even more important Voldemort didn't know him. He thought he had an idea of who Harry was, but he didn't know that he was the one who caused Quirrell's death, who stopped a plan created by Malfoy, who learned Death was what defined life. He didn't know about the bag of sand, or Delirium's rubber duck that she had not given him, yet still worked. He didn't know many things about Harry. But Harry knew that Voldemort feared Death.

A vague plan in his head, he stood to his feet. The worst that could happen was his death, and thinking of the woman behind him, Harry was not frightened.

"A little break," said Voldemort. "That hurt, didn't it Harry? You don't want me to do that again, do you"

Harry didn't answer. Death was shaking her head; she was not here for him.

"I asked you whether you want me to do that again," said Voldemort softly. "Answer me! _Imperio!_" Harry felt a floating sensation and shook his body from it quickly; he had just come back to himself. It would be foolish to loose the pieces to his mind now.

"You won't say no? Perhaps another little dose of pain?" Harry already flung himself out of the way, and he heard it crack when it missed him.

"We are not playing hide-and-seek, Harry. You cannot hide from me. Does this mean you are tired of our duel?"

"Bravery is for those who aren't smart enough to come up with a plan," Harry called out. But he heard Voldemort coming towards him, and knowing he had little choice, stepped out to duel him. Time to duel.

"_Avada Kedavra_."

"_Expelliarmus."_ Harry wished he knew a better spell. Truth be told, there were a few nastier ones in his arsenal, but the only chance he had of surviving all involved Voldemort disarmed for a second. And then something unexpected happened.

The spells collided and formed beads of shimmering lights, he heard Del laugh in joy. They entrapped Harry and Voldemort in a dome, and the Death Eaters prowled the outside. A high trilling sound filled the air, Harry thought it might have been hope. Death spoke.

_**Don't break the connection.**_

Voldemort was looking at the wand's in fear, and Harry did not. It was a potent thought; that Death had his back.

And the wands shuddered, and a bead of light connecting the two headed towards Voldemort and spells began to appear. They had already been cast, their power dead and gone. He heard screeches of pain, and a misty echo of MacNair's new arm. And then something larger appeared. There were several goblins, and Harry was mystified why they appeared. A man came out Voldemort's wand and encouraged Harry. By the way he spoke, Harry could tell he was a Muggle. It looked like another person was emerging from the wand, his parents.

He didn't want to see his parents. They were dead, and Harry never really knew them, but the thought they might be disappointed in him was too much.

Too much of a risk.

So he wrenched the wand tightly and the strands of energy broke. Time was precious, and he only had a few seconds.

He attempted to make a run for it, but there was a wall of wizards in his way, and even as he was running towards them, he could see that it wouldn't work. The world in his eyes was still a flat grey color, there was no safety available. Perhaps if he held onto his wand longer it would have been more of a distraction. McNair was directly in his path and the new silver arm seemed to reenergize the man, allowing him to get a firm grasp of Harry's arm, wrenching it to the side with a sharp twist. Harry's eyes watered with the pain, but he held in his cry while his hand fumbled inside his robes. Coming in contact with two vials, he withdrew them into his palm, careful to conceal their presence by struggling with McNair.

MacNair pulled him forward, drawing him closer to Voldemort, who stood near the large cauldron where he was reborn.

Harry summoned his energy, and wrapped his arms around MacNair, attempting to spin him around like he had with the girls during the Yule Ball. The ridiculous image to caught the Death Eaters off guard, and some of them were too busy snorting in laughter to notice the vials slip from Harry's hand into the still burning fire underneath the cauldron.

Of course, they hadn't heard Fred's warning either.

The cauldron exploded, and shrapnel flew everywhere. MacNair received a great deal of it in his back from being so close, his body growing limp in Harry's arms. All of the Death Eaters had fallen on the ground, most of them clutching parts of their body in pain. Dropping the dead weight, Harry ran for it, leaping over a prostrate Death Eater who was moaning on the ground.

He could hear them say a few spells behind him, and Voldemort's cries. The giant snake was in his path, so large that he could see it despite the low moonlight. Its fangs were bared, and Harry balanced on a couple of headstones to avoid it.

"_Stun him_!" Voldemort called out in anger.

Harry dived behind an angel and saw the tip of its wing shatter as the spells hit. Gripping his wand tightly, he dashed out from behind the angel… he just needed keep some distance, buy some time.

"The boy has no means of escape! Stand aside! I will kill him! He is **mine**!" shrieked Voldemort. Harry was running past Death, and she blew him a kiss. He twisted his head ever so slightly, and he could feel her touch, and a green light shattered a tombstone right by him.

He turned sharply to his right, shielded for a couple moments behind a mausoleum.

Harry didn't want to be alone with the Death Eaters, there were too many. If they Apparated his direction, he would lose. He needed help.

And Harry knew how to summon it, just like Voldemort did.

They were an awful lot alike after all.

"_Morsemordre_."

Recalling the hoard of Ministry workers that appeared last summer, Harry hoped it would be just as effective this time. He was grateful that he remembered it.

He tugged at his Invisibility Cloak hidden in his pocket, putting it on quickly and resuming his running. He could see the Death Eaters that had been chasing him had stopped, they were looking up at the sky, pointing at the green mark. Voldemort let out a cry of anger and Harry did not stop, he just needed to buy time. Mrs. Norris could sense Harry beneath the Cloak, there was no reason that the giant snake couldn't smell the blood dripping down Harry's robes.

There was another mausoleum coming up, and Harry grasped a decorative pillar. He hoisted himself up quickly until he reached the top. And there he crouched, invisible, looking over the edge to his captors. There was a great deal of shouting, and Harry could feel Voldemort's pulsing anger, so far away, and yet very close in his mind. Then, a great many popping noises, and then they disappeared. He was alone in the graveyard, save a few prostrate forms in the distance, which he could make out in the green light.

A few more cracks sounded in the air, followed by the appearance of some men in robes. They moved in a organized fashion, and there were voices and shock. The Aurors had arrived. Harry lowered himself from his hiding place, stuffing his Invisibility Cloak into his pocket. Then he lit his wand, and wobbled their direction.

"Hello?" he called out, making certain there was enough distance between them in case if they were hex-happy. All the wands pointed in his direction, and he had to restrain himself from retaliating, blinking at the wand light.

"Who's there?" a voice called out.

"Harry, goodness Harry is that you?" and Auror came out from the light, and Harry recognized him, it was the man who had replaced Quirrell.

"Professor Fawcett?" Harry asked in a hushed voice. "Is it you? And is it really you, and not some guy pretending to be you?" He shook his head. "I mean, yeah, I'm me."

"What happened here?" he asked in a stern voice. "Who set off The Dark Mark?"

"I… Did you know that the final Task for the Triwizard Tournament was supposed to be tonight?" Fawcett nodded his head, while the Auror member next to him gave a snort.

"Well, Cedric Diggory and I tied, we both reached the trophy in time, only it wasn't a trophy, it was a Portkey, and we both ended up here. Cedric managed to get the Portkey to take him back, but I got left behind." There were some surprised voices, calling out, they had discovered the bodies. Harry could see Death leaning over MacNair and he shut his eyes and listened to the sound of great, flapping wings. The other Auror walked back, and spoke a few words before sending a signal to Fawcett, who stepped towards Harry. A flare of uneasiness made his heart flutter, and Harry stepped back, wary of getting too close.

"Wait! How do I know that who you are? There's been Polyjuice people running around and I don't know if you're one of them." Fawcett's eyebrows raised, and gave him a small look of approval.

"Very well. One of the first things I did when I taught you was return your book that Quirrell was in possession of when he died. Now it's your turn." And Harry's look of confusion, Fawcett explained. "Perhaps you are a suicidal dark wizard who is meant to distract me while the real Harry Potter is still missing. You need to volunteer information to me as well, this is how these things work." Harry ran his hand through his hair, recalling back to his first year at Hogwarts. It felt so long ago.

"You…um…The week before Easter break you taught everyone how to speak Troll. You claimed it was for our own benefit it case if we needed it, and that it was really easy to learn. But everyone knew you didn't want to do any work over the break."

"Good, excellent. We've arranged for a Portkey, Alastor Moody contacted the Auror's office immediately after your disappearance to watch out for any strange events. We've been instructed to take you to St. Mungo's. Grab on." Harry placed his hand on the broken quill, and Fawcett tapped it twice with his wand, and Harry was whisked off to the hospital.

"Harry! Harry, are you alright?" Sirius rolled Harry over. Harry tired to force out a laugh, but it came out as a rasp. "I'm fine Sirius. I'm alive. Which is more than I can say for some of them." Sirius' eyes flickered with understanding, and he gave Harry's arm a light squeeze.

"I understand. I'll go notify Dumbledore that we've found you."

The Healer had just finished bandaging Harry's ribs when Sirius, Minister Fudge, Dumbledore and Moody arrived.

"Harry, we are extremely relieved to find you alive and well. We have already spoken to Cedric over what happened when you disappeared. We would like for you to continue on with what we don't know." Harry closed his eyes, and began to tell his story. Fudge was very expressive with his emotions, frequently making faces and exclamations.

"How did you do it? Manage to escape and call the Auror's when you were trapped?" Harry opened his mouth to inform him of the Four Lessons, but found himself with a loss of words. It was impossible to explain the focus it gave him. Dumbledore must have sensed his reluctance to answer the question, and prodded Harry to continue with the story. Their faces grew grimmer and grimmer as Harry continued, and the silence stretched out when he finished. Dumbledore turned to Fudge.

"Well, Cornelius, I believe some steps need to be made." Fudged twirled his bowler hat in his hand, his eyes shut tightly.

He cleared his throat and turned to Dumbledore. "As much as it pains me… I agree. The press already is working on a story on Diggory as the Hogwart's champion since he returned with the cup. Most people aren't aware that you had reached the cup at the same time. If you like I can put a word in the press to say that it was a tied win for Hogwarts."

Harry shook his head. "It's okay. I don't really care about that anymore. I've got new things. I mean they are not new things but actually old things. Well not too old, their young. My friends. I'm probably not making much sense now." Sirius' eyes looked at Harry with suspicion, but he did not say anything about Harry's strange response, instead recommending that they leave Harry to rest. Fudge nodded.

"First there was that business with the Crouch family, then discovering that Bagman was under the Imperious spell this evening. I've also received a letter from the Goblin Relations Office a few weeks ago petitioning for the search of a few of their members. Harry's explanation resolves some of the questions we have. HE really is back." A look of misery adorned Fudge's face. "We'll have to take certain steps of course. Give them some time to rejoice over Diggory's win in the tournament, and get some plans in place before we break the news to the public. It should calm down some of the panic if the Ministry presents itself with strong leadership. Goodness knows that the bad press I received last year over the disappearance of the hippogriff is something I do not want to repeat. I still remember the panic and suspicion of the first war, this is something we can't repeat." They all stood up then, heading for the door, Sirius hanging back for a moment as Harry crawled into his hospital bed.

"Harry, you aren't alone in this. I'm going to do everything I can to make certain that you'll make it through this." Harry rolled over to his side and replied.

"I know I'm not alone. I didn't before, but things have changed." Sirius said nothing, but Harry could hear his footsteps cross the room, and head into the hallway where the others were having a conversation with Auror Fawcett.

Harry could hear bits of it even after Sirius shut the door.

"…still managed to keep his wits. Asked me for proof of my identity before he would go anywhere with me."

"Potter's got a sharp mind, he's easily the most advanced in his class. He's got the makings of a great Auror," Moody replied in a gruff voice.

Harry's was almost asleep, but a ghost of a smile crossed his face when he heard Moody. Personally, he thought he would make a perfectly horrible Auror.

Aurors had to play by the rules.


	32. Ch 30 The Turning Point

You are at the top of the page, and Del is curled at the corner of your screen.

"See? It's right there," Delirium says, pointing upward with her finger.

You look up, and you don't see anything different. Delirium huffs at you impatiently, and you look again. And there, right next to the words. "Books" and "Harry Potter"…

"See? It was there all along. You can go back down now."

So you do.

Delirium gives you a long look.

"You aren't supposed to be here. I just sent you away… Why aren't you going away?"

_Eh?_

"Wait… I think… You weren't YOU. I, mean, you are you, but not the you that I was talking to. The YOU from the future."

_What's going on? Is it another of those weird things like the assassins… _Delirium puts her hands on her face, and peers out from the gap in her fingers

"Oooh, not that again! You will probably bring up Ginny as Harry's soul mate too, like everything is so simple!" She places her hands on her hips, her chin jutting out slightly.

"Maybe you would be a lot less confused if you started at the beginning of the chapter!"

_I'm not at the beginning of the chapter?_

Chapter Thirty

The Turning Point

_**I think you're nasty to me now. I think you'll have invisible insects all over you now for all of your life and forever and always****.**_

Delirium to a policeman in _Brief Lives_

_

* * *

  
_

A raven flew in the heart of The Dreaming, heading towards its master, who was observing the dreams of Harry Potter. It perched on a nearby tree and watched various versions of Harry scuttle around, some of them in different stages of decay, others with limbs missing.

"He's not a particularly happy one is he?" Matthew the raven asked Lord Dream.

"Harry Potter's dreams were all like this at one point, an aftereffect of my siblings machinations. Despite my warnings, some of them involve themselves too much in human lives. I managed to put a stop to it by giving him a dream. It was a small dream, but it was more than he had before, and it was enough. However..." Dream pointed to a long thread that crossed the sky traveling far into The Dreaming.

"This thread is a direct connection to the boy and the one who calls himself, Lord Voldemort. The one who chose to mock my power and distanced himself from my realm. Their lives are directly linked, and some of their conflicts may spill into other's dreams. They will influence the waking world as they struggle against one each other." Matthew ruffled his feather.

"Wait a minute boss, is he the same kid who managed to take some of your sand?"

"Indeed."

"Erm, then why did you let him keep it? That sort of thing is dangerous to leave around, especially if he's as important as you say he is."

"I've managed to impart to him a measure of responsibility, Matthew. He understands stories, ideas, dreams, and hope. It makes a great deal of difference."

"Yeah, I see what you're saying." The black bird scratched under his wing with an air of consideration. "But what I'm trying to explain is that the kid's just a teenager. I rebelled some what I was growing up, I imagined he would too."

"Yes, perhaps." The Dream Lord gazed thoughtfully down at a mewling Harry. "But while my younger siblings machinations lacked subtlety, I have no such failing. He comes to The Dreaming every night, and soon the connection will awaken. And when such a thing happens, I will be there. Tom Riddle denied the power of dreams, and that is why I involved myself in the first place. Using Harry Potter will be an excellent way to prove Tom Riddle wrong, but ultimately the boy will make the choice. It is fine that he rebels Matthew, as long as he does not rise up against myself."

"He looks kinda small. It's a little unfair that he's got all this pressure on him."

"Which is why I am charging you with the responsibility of watching him. You are to watch his dreams every night, and notify me when there is a change. It will come, I am certain of this." Dream swirled a hand and a set of stairs appeared twisting high into the stars upon which he ascended.

"Okay, what**ev**er you say Boss." Matthew the raven flew towards one the Harry Potters, settling on a gravestone with a broken angel. He watched Headless Harry was toss his head to Maggot Harry _through a ring of fire and…_

Harry woke in his bed at St. Mungo's abruptly, and rubbed his neck. He reached for a glass of water, and sat up, propping himself on a stack of pillows. Touching his eyes, Harry noted the remains of dried tears, how odd. He couldn't really remember the last time he cried, but the proof was there. He pulled his knees to his chest and rested his chin, sinking his hands into his hair. His emotions were still raw and fresh, the newness of it making him apprehensive. Yet returning to the cold, numb life before he fell prey to Desire's games was unacceptable. Lord Voldemort was a stark example of what Harry could become and he found it… lacking. Yes, The Dark Lord commanded respect and a healthy amount of fear and power, but his fear of Death was something extremely troubling. Harry knew that he was one of the few people who had the ability to see **her**, but it was still difficult to understand Voldemort's point of view.

But it didn't really matter. Harry knew this day was coming ever since he learned The Dark Lord was still alive, and his path in that matter was clear.

Lord Voldemort had killed people with irreverence, targeting people who were a threat, or annoyance, or because they existed. And while Harry wasn't entirely innocent, he could see no use in attacking a one-year-old boy like The Dark Lord attacked him. His inside's squirmed as he thought of his near attempt at Ginny's life during his second year. What direction would his life have taken if he had followed through his original attempt? Would his mistake weigh upon him, or would he have grown even colder and distant? Harry shook his head, dismissing the thoughts from his mind. It was no use to dwell on the past, for The Dark Lord had risen, now was the time to plan for the future.

He ran his fingers over the grain of his wand and he considered the tasks ahead of him. He always believed that he would hunt down Voldemort in the forests of Albania. Perhaps after creating a spell that would banish him from his ghostly form. Not to mention, his rebirth was a harsh reminder of how far behind Harry was. He had overestimated himself. So now what steps he would take? He closed his eyes, and tried to think of the options.

A Hufflepuff… they believed in loyalty and hard work. Perhaps he could keep his head down and focus on school, hoping that Voldemort would be dead by the time he graduated. However, the chances of that were unlikely, as the Wizarding World failed the first time around.

A Ravenclaw would study hard; discover Voldemort's weakness, and research ways to take advantage of them. This had potential; he already knew Voldemort's main fear. He could also review some history books in order to see what traits defined Voldemort's rise to power.

A Gryffindor valued chivalry and bravery. A wry smile twisted at Harry's lips, he wasn't really that sort of person. Although, Harry had already displayed some of his Slytherin traits to Voldemort, perhaps a bit of a personality change would keep him off balance.

Which led him to his final option, Slytherins would get someone to do it for them. This, unfortunately, was not an option. When you wanted something done right, sometime you had to do it yourself, and the delicate situation of Voldemort's demise was something that he was unable to entrust with anyone else. It wasn't out of loyalty to his parents, who were long dead. His mother's death had caused magic unheard of and it was a beauty that most wizards would never forget. It wasn't out of fear, Voldemort's belief that Death was the worst possible situation limited his attacks to a narrow frame that Harry believed he could overcome.

It was because of his friends, that Harry's determination came forth. Most of them were still naïve, and they worried about things like dances because that was their life. Harry had found it irrelevant before, but now it took on a new meaning. Because they took steps into their future, while Harry had never thought of his before, too busy concentrating on blending in with the present. Before he was drifting through life, but the sharpness of his renewed emotions made everything richer. The sheets in his bed felt itchier, and texture of is wand was more detailed. That was what Harry had missed when he closed himself off from Desire.

A love of life.

The possibility that his friends could end up with Sirius' hollow look gave him a goal.

There was still cunning and ambition, and that was something easily within Harry's grasp. He needed to be active in the elimination of Lord Voldemort and have multiple tactics to keep him unsteady. Harry believed that order was what kept the world functioning day to day, but the Dark Lord would send everything into chaos. The old dream of normality by imitation was no longer an option. The way Harry would survive was to take the chaos and make himself apart of it.

Rules and law were meaningless apart from using them to protect himself by crafting an image within a façade. And when it didn't matter anymore, Harry would clearly draw a line in the sand of what was unacceptable. Harry's moral compass would adhere to The Four Lessons, and if he was going to truly win this, he needed look beyond the obvious target of Lord Voldemort and aim at the things that caused him to rise in power, from his followers to his ideals.

A Purging.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by the ringing of a polka chime, a curious tune out of place in a hospital.

"I came for a visit. I thought that I would be real this time, I hope you don't mind." Harry looked up, and saw Delirium standing in the doorway. The coat hung off her small frame and bright lime boots; it gave her a scrappy look. He gave a small smile and scooted to one side of his bed. Delirium climbed in next to him, draping an arm around his waist, and set her chin on his chest. Harry wrinkled his nose, she smelled of old leather and sweat, a combination that was a part of her as her mismatched eyes, and could not be washed away. Still, it was a small price to pay for the comfort of her familiar presence. They were about the same height, and her knees would frequently knock with his, causing her to let out a small giggle.

Then there was the clacking noise of high heeled shoes, and a pause, and a sharp voice.

"Harry Potter, do you mind if I ask you some…Oh! What is it that we have here?" Harry turned his head, and noticed Rita Skeeter standing in his room. A look of astonishment adorned her face, and he realized that she wasn't looking at him at all, but at Delirium. Her eyes flashed, and a smile of triumph stretched across her face.

"I've been trying to get a hold of you all this year, Harry. But since Dumbledore set up those Animagus wards last year, I was unable to get the scoop I wanted. I thought it was a lost cause for people to learn of the 'Real Harry Potter.' And just when I began to give up hope, what do I find? You, in bed, with a Trashy. Little. **Girl**! The scandal will be on the front pages of The Daily Prophet for months!" Delirium flinched at her words and Harry gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze.

"Don't print it. Things are a lot more complicated than you think," he tried to explain.

"What is there to understand?" Rita interrupted. "I have my story now, that is all there is to understand. Although, I'm a bit disappointed that you find gutter trash appealing, Harry." Her green quill was already zooming at an unhealthy pace across a piece of parchment, and in a few moments it would be off to The Prophet.

"I don't like it when people talk about me. You should be nice." Delirium said clutching at her coat sleeve.

"I don't do **nice**. I do stories." Rita said, snapping her bag shut.

"Oh. I don't do stories. That's my brother. He can be scary sometimes. Sometimes I can be scary too." Del looked at Harry, and then back at Rita.

"I think you can have your stories, but I think that no one will be able to understand you." She gave a twisted smile and waved her hand. The parchment in Rita's hand turned into a bird and soared out the closed window in Harry's room. "And now I'm done being scary." Rita shot a look of venom at Delirium, and wagged her finger.

"You nasty little… _**thing**__._ I don't know who you are but if you think this is going to be swept under the rug you have the wrong idea," said Rita haughtily.

"I don't have a rug. Or a broom. I think Harry does though. Maybe you could borrow his?" Rita didn't respond, but marched out of the room clutching her bag.

"You didn't have to do that, Del," Harry said to her. She pressed her hands around Harry's and looked at him with wide eyes.

"You need to line up all your ducks in a row, or else you won't be able to keep track of them." She nibbled her lip, and crawled out from the covers. "I have to go now, there's somewhere I need to be a few minutes ago." And then Delirium popped away.

Left alone with his thoughts, Harry lay back down in bed where he recently embraced chaos.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Desire relaxes in the heart of her domain. The walls to Harry's heart could easily be raised again, but Desire knows that there is nothing to worry about, it had won. Lily Potter had passed on a craving of life to her son, and now that he felt its full effects, Harry would be never leave. What's more the blood in Harry's veins had yielded unexpected results. How thrilling.

"My sibling, it is your sister. Can I visit your realm?" Desire hears the voice of is twin and lets her enter, calling out as soon as Despair arrives.

"Good news sister! The boy has let me into his heart once more."

"Yes, but did you notice the other change that came about? Tom Riddle?" Despair queried. "Before he mourned his lack of body and power, but it was faint. There was a small flare of emotion when he was in possession of that other man. But the blood he used to gain back his body has connected him with his humanity once more," Despair's hummed.

"Oh yes! I have noticed that dearest sister. An astonishing surprise to this little game we have with Harry. A new piece for our game, a new pawn to play with." Desire flashed a smile. "He's never been a strong believer in love, and for once I agree with Dream. Little Riddle needs to pay for his insults. Like the first circle sister, things come around back to the beginning, and now he has no choice but to be a part of us once more. It should be great fun to watch how he handles it." Despair nodded, and rubbed her hands.

"I believe that he will not handle it very well. I look forward to his pain," Despair replied with anticipation. The ring on her finger was adorned with a hook, and she sunk it deeply into her skin above her heart. A trickle of blood emerged, the small droplets falling onto Desire's carpet.

"And I look forward to see how far he will go to get what he wants…" Desire raised a glass, "And then watching him fail."

As far as Desire was concerned Harry Potter belong to **it** and no one else would have him.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The sun is high in the sky when she arrives. Barnabas was snoozing under a tree, but promptly awakes when he feels her presence.

"This is private property, go away lady," he says gruffly, and bares his teeth

The woman turns to look at him, and gives him a scratch behind the ears.

"Oh, I know Barnabas. But if I announced that I was coming beforehand, it is very likely that I wouldn't have found what I was searching for." Barnabas wagged his tail instinctively, all traces of hostility gone. She walks away, and it takes a second for him to recover, and trots after her, heading for the small house. Standing in the doorway was a man who looked like a woodsman.

"Greetings, sister."

"Hello, brother," Death replied back. "You look well."

"I am well." He did not smile back at her. "I'm surprised to see you here. I would have thought that you of all people respected the choice I made."

"Well, things change," she replied. Her brother says nothing at first, his face grim, before bursting out in booming laughter.

"HAHA! So they do. What brings you here then?" The Prodigal asks, signaling for his older sister to enter the house. Death sighs.

"Family business. The youngest ones have been meddling again, and this time they've gone too far." He turns away from Death, stirring a pot of rice. His earlier inattention had caused it to burn.

"We both know that I don't involve myself in that anymore. So why you are telling me this?"

Death turns off the stove, and hops onto the counter top, she still wasn't eye level with him, but it would have to do.

"Do you remember Harry Potter? Young, black messy hair, with really bright green eyes?" Destruction frowns.

"There's a few people who match that description. What makes you think that I've met him?"

"Because I recognize the mark that you left on him. I've decided to keep an eye on him. Not much, just a few glimpses here and there. Normally their games wouldn't be such a big deal, but… Harry won. I'm going to need your help to get this situation under control."

"I've left my realm for a reason. To let mortals reap the effects of their own destruction, and to be able to believe that there is more to life than cycles. Going back, to help you with this would defeat the purpose." Death scrunches her nose, and picked up the spoon that Destruction had used to stir his rice. As she speaks she punctuates her words with a poke to his chest.

"I know **perfectly** well why you left your realm and I respect it! But this is more than just you, Brother. It's about The Threshold, The Dreaming, and all of the universe!" She slams the spoon back onto the counter-top, and crosses her arms. "It's a little bit of all of us, and that includes yourself, so you **are** a part of this. So what did you do?" The Brother rubbed his hand along his chin, recalling the events of years past

"I didn't do anything. Although I saw the signs that everyone left on him. I've been trying to hide from the family, communicating with him would have been an easy way to catch attention. I'm not certain how you found me anyway."

Death smiled. "I'm everywhere, it wasn't hard. All I had to look for was a place that I hadn't visited in a while, that narrowed down the places to look." She sighs, tapping her fingers on the counter. "Well, somehow you left a mark on him. I checked up on Harry yesterday, and he's becoming more cognizant of the power he holds. Dream was wise, he gave Harry some guidance early on, and so Harry's been using that power responsibly. It is the others that I worry about."

The Brother laughed. "Dream lecturing others of responsibility, that is not a surprise." The smile fell from his face. "And what of the others?" Death pushes her hair back as she responds his question.

"Harry's gleaned a level of cruelty and love of games from them. Toying with other people's emotions. That's not the concerning part, ultimately those sort of things don't really matter. But Harry's aware of our Family, and he's a stubborn person. He tore himself away from The Threshold for three years simply to spite Desire, and Desire responded back. Despair only gained back some of her power from Harry last year. Delirium is quite fond of Harry and ever since she met him, she's closer to her old self than she's ever been. She doesn't have quite so many bad days anymore."

"It's good to hear."

Death made a face at her brother and throws up her hands in exasperation. "Yes, that's good, but on the other hand he could use the power to fracture the universe into his vision eliminating the world **we** have shaped. He could kill our family! The only ones that will be left are you and me, is that what you want? Do you know what that would do to the universe? The last time one of the Endless died, I didn't stop working for centuries. People committing suicides left and right, planets exploding, I know you remember that mess. Steps need to be taken to ensure this doesn't happen. He's a good kid when it comes right down to it; there's simply too many hands involved in his life. And I know that's one of the reason's why you left, to prevent this sort of thing." The brother sighed heavily, sitting down on a chair. He is silent for a moment before he responds.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Talk to him when you see him. Don't avoid him, but don't look for him either. I know your paths will cross, that's just the way that things will go. And when you meet him, give him your advice. Tell him what you've learned. It should be enough."

"Just talk to him? I'm not certain how that will help."

Death slides off the counter and heads out the door. "It will teach him to control the destruction."

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

_**In the real world:**_

A group of friends are gathered, listening to Minerva McGonagall explain that Harry Potter is in St. Mungo's. When she leaves, they are silent as they look at his empty seat and wonder why it is always Harry.

Bagman leaves the country. Whoever placed him under the Imperious Curse paid off his debts to the goblins, but he is too frightened to stay. He knows that Dark times are ahead.

Theodore Nott darts glances at the empty bed across the room as he packs his things. He has been given permission to leave early to attend a funeral. Knowing he will share the room next year with his grandfather's killer makes Theodore uneasy, but the thought is not as uncomfortable that the elder Nott may have deserved it.

Siruis Black sits at his kitchen table drinking a glass of Firewhiskey. He recognizes the look on his godson's face from Azkaban, and laments once more that he was too late for Harry. Half drunk, Sirius makes a promise that he will be there when Harry needs him. It is a promise he will keep.

Cedric Diggory sleeps in his dormitory, where his dreams are filled with visions of green light. He awakens abruptly when his roommates enter the room, and is surprised to find himself still alive.

Cornelius Fudge pulls out some files from the first war, knowing that he needs to enact countermeasures immediately. He wants to be known throughout history, and defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named will ensure it.

Rita Skeeter sobs in her cubicle at The Daily Prophet. Her throat no longer works properly, instead emitting wheezes and the beginning stutters of a sentence that she will never finish. She can no longer write, for every time she picks up a quill, her hand goes limp. She has news, but it is trapped in her mind where it will drive her mad.

Albus Dumbledore is in his office reading _Secrets of the Darkest Art_. Harry's description leads him to believe that Voldemort has made more than one Horcrux, and his heart grows fearful.

Voldemort seethes at his hideout as he pulls out another piece of cauldron from his shoulder. Harry Potter was truly worthy of the Slytherin title, and _he_ would take pleasure stifling the breath out of the boy. Potter used his signal, the Dark Mark, to get himself rescued, and managed to kill three of his servants. And then there is that curious connection between their two wands. The night was supposed to be a celebration of _his _power, yet he had to leave to avoid the Aurors. Large steps would need to be taken to recover from this misstep.

His eyes narrow as he watches Narcissa Malfoy wrap her husband's shoulder, a plan forming in his mind.

He **wants** that Prophecy!

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

You are walking in the sea, and you are not quite certain how you got there. You see a man, floating next to a jellyfish writing on a wall of coral.

_The **Dog** ate the suicide **Bird**_

Confused, you look around for something familiar, and you see a girl, about the age of fourteen on a broken swing set. She looks familiar and you approach her, hoping that she will give you the answers you seek.

"Hello?" Delirium looks up and smiles at you.

"Hi!" She waves at you. "Do you know why you are here?" You shake your head. "You want to know the end of the story." You blink, and realize it is true. Delirium giggles and walks away. You follow her, careful to avoid the potatoes that look like garden gnomes.

"You don't have to be so impatient, the end is coming. Most things change, but some things stay the same. Everything has an ending, if you wait long enough."

Irritation grows in side of you. You are tired of all of these vague hints and wish for a straight answer. _Is that too much to ask for?_

Delirium gives you a scrutinizing look, and your breath catches as you realize that both of her eyes are the same color, the perfect blue of a sunny sky.

"Okay, I'll let you know. The main point of the story is the first three words you read."

Part of you knows the answer, but you still don't understand.

"You can go to the top of the page. The answer is right there."

You read this. _**Tap, TAP. Tap, TAP.**_

Delirium's finger hits the screen of your computer to get your attention.

"The beginning should make sense. Go ahead. I'll wait."

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

I

hurted.

Change can hurt.

But he made it better.

So I can try to make him better.

Harry can fall apart, he's my friend

He's going to give me a necklace, I like it.

I mean that I will, he hasn't given it to me yet.

But I got impatient; so I went ahead and found it, see?

I hope

I don't

Lose it.

Delirium says, clutching her necklace.

You squint at it, trying to see if there's any clue why it is so important to her.

"_It is our choices, that show who we truly are, far more than our abilities. _I think I read that somewhere. Or maybe **you** read it somewhere..." She twirls around in a circle.

"I don't blame you for being impatient, sometimes I am too. Anyway, Harry has lots of decisions to make. And he has to make decisions on what other decisions people make. And that goes around and around so he ends up in the same place. You only **think** you know what is coming, like you've seen this all before. Little, wibbly, wobbly ducks all in a row. _Duck, Duck, Duck, __**Goose!**_ But if Harry makes the wrong choice, then that will be it for this time around. My sister will come and take us all." She frowns. "I don't think he's allowed to know. So don't tell him. Not that it matters…"

You smile at her indulgently. _You can't tell Harry because…_

"You're not real."

_No_. _Harry's not real. I am. _

"**That's** what **you** think."

Delirium waves goodbye, her hand clenching in an odd fashion. It's a familiar rhythm, the tune of your own beating heart.

Part of her is keeping you alive.

**Or is it the other way around?**


	33. Part Three Intro

**Part Three**

**The End of the End**

Summary: Voldemort has risen, and the world hovers uncertainly above the darkness. Meanwhile, Harry undertakes a personal challenge, and finds new meaning in life and death. Sandman crossover

* * *

"Desire? You disappoint me. This evening's display: bringing back a dead man to offer Norton the pleasures of the world. It was not very subtle."- Dream

"Go screw yourself, big brother." –Desire

_-After a challenge in Three Septembers and a January

* * *

  
_

On the Endless

There are seven members in the Endless family. The eldest is Destiny, whose book contains all the paths and mysteries of the universe. He does not shape it, he merely watches it happen. Next is Death, who existed before the first living thing was created, followed by Dream, arriving before the first entity of the universe had awaken. Destruction is a destructive force whose power is too immense to imagine, yet too personal to dismiss. Despair and Desire are twins, whose abilities and purpose intertwine with each other, and often work together. A broken heart leads to sadness, and sadness often leads into want.

And then there is Delirium, whose nature is whispered in history. It is said that Delirium was not always as such, that her nature was different at the beginning of the universe. It is said that Delirium was once Delight, the opposite force of Despair. Lost in the passing of time, only The Endless know if these whispers are true.

It would be easy to dismiss the Lord Dream, as his power is most frequently seen during our sleeping hours. Despite people's first instinct, Dream of the Endless has as much power as his siblings. Not only does Dream capture our sleeping hours, but our waking. Dream is the Lord of Stories, they all are his, they all are Him. Sleeping at night brings all to his realm each night, yet it is few who can remember it upon waking. This is proof of our weakness, and his power.

Dream of the Endless is a lonely figure; his purpose demands it. Because of this, he is close only to his older sister Death, whose power holds no limits. She too is a solitary figure, who holds great dedication to her responsibilities. He holds great respect for her, so while he seeks her opinion rarely, it is influential. In turn, he is the only other who knows how to avoid her power. For there are ways around everything, and the Lord of Stories can create them all.

That is not to say that the others have less power. Each of them have their own unique purpose and they influence our lives. But it is unlikely that you will be able to meet with the others and escape unscathed. The Endless have little patience for the whims of mortals, whose life spans are brief in the spans of history. By their nature they are self-serving, and that includes Dream. However, as our goals are often dreams, it is possible to gain a favor. It can be easy to believe that Desire of the Endless will assist with your goals, but remember this: Desire is never satisfied with less than everything.

It is said that Lord Dream has the worst temper of his siblings, that an injury to his pride leads to revenge. (There was once a love triangle between Dream, a woman, and a star. It was a game of Desire's own making, and Dream has never forgiven his sibling.) All the gods, of all of the worlds were first stories, and from these stories, Dream created the gods. It is said that he molds reality, and that all of the world that is, has been carefully shaped by his hands. (Although who shaped Lord Dream and the others, is never spoken of, even by the Endless.)

I was once a Seer, I have viewed some of the items written in Destiny's book, but the images have long since faded from my mind. Only one remains, and that is this book.

Perhaps, you may wonder, dear reader, why I would wish to write of such an entity. The answer: the Lord Dream is the most accessible. Every night we journey into his realm, viewing the images he has created for us, giving us inspiration, giving us fear, and exposing the layers of our humanity. And too often we awake, and the power fades into nothing. And to this I ask: Why?

His power is there for us to have, and we can bring the dreams into our waking world. And from these dreams we can shape our world anew, and create a world of our making. And so I write this book. Some may dismiss these words as falsehoods, but there are those who dare to believe that there is power in a dream.

And their names will be echoed in time, until they become stories themselves.

~_The Power of Dreams_, by Astoria Teller, Seer

* * *

**TEMPUS FRAGIT**

_(time breaks)_

-The inscription carved into the sundial of Delirium's realm.


	34. Ch 31 Daphne and George

**Author's Note:**

I've been very deliberate when mapping out the book five. Every scene, point of view, and sentence has been chosen to portray a certain aspect of Harry and the people around him. I thought it was fair to give you a warning that there are five chapter's in others eyes. When you return to Harry, it should make the chapter's more entertaining as you find out his real mindframe.

**Daphne**

_**Actors... I don't like actors. It's a profession based on lies and disrespect. Pretending to be what you are not.**_

The emperor Augustus in The SANDMAN

* * *

Daphne stepped into Platform Nine and Three Quarters with grace, steering her cart swiftly through the rowdy crowd. She had received an owl from Blaise that they were to meet in the back of the train. Daphne flicked her wand and settled her things in a compartment where he had left his own things. After a small goodbye to her mother, she went inside.

"I take it that you did not make Prefect?" Daphne asked, noting Blaise's robes.

"No, I suppose that would be Harry, he's probably already on his way to the compartment as we speak," he replied as the train began to depart from the station. The door thumped open and Harry stepped in. Nodding at them, he dumped his things unceremoniously onto the floor and settled on the cushions. Daphne gave him a cool look.

"You're not a Prefect?" Blaise spluttered. Harry frowned.

"No, Draco is, I already ran into him in the hallway, Pansy too." He looked at Daphne, and she pressed her lips together in annoyance. Harry's grades had improved greatly with his dedication to the Tournament and the younger years in the school had great respect for him, more than Malfoy. Also, there was the near certainty that Malfoy would abuse his privileges. Unfortunately, it appeared Dumbledore had made some sort of political move, perhaps in an effort to improve his image.

The news made Harry rather tetchy, Daphne did her best to bring him out of his attitude. She hoped it was not going to continue throughout the rest of the year, it would make him intolerable.

When they arrived at the Great Hall, she settled herself in a spot with precision and grace, and Blaise slid quietly next to her. Harry, however, landed heavily across from them, knocking over a few glasses. She glared at him in annoyance, noting his tie was askew and his jaw was clenched.

"What is your problem Potter?" she snapped. Really, she couldn't stand drama queens. He gave her a glare, which softened and then he jerked his head to the staff table.

"The new Defense teacher tried to get me expelled over the summer," he said. Raising her eyebrow, she moved her head to get a look over the seventh years and felt her face twist in aversion. She heard Blaise make a noise of disgust next to her.

"I was attacked by Dementor's over the summer, I don't know why. There were accusations that I cast a Patronus to deter them, despite the fact it was Sirius who cast the spell. She was at the hearing, which by the way, turned into a full interrogation by the Wizemegamot. She's the Minister's Undersecretary and I believe she has it in for me." Blaise's eyes narrowed.

"Proceed with caution then?" Harry nodded silently, as the first years marched in to be Sorted.

Daphne took the time to examine the teacher closely. The woman had an obsession with pink, and was wearing clothes that would look adorable on someone forty years younger. Daphne was a sharp witch, with a sharp wand to match, and the teacher's simpering face reminded her too much of Pansy. Her beliefs were confirmed when Delores Umbridge interrupted Dumbledore to speak. It was a message of upcoming change to Hogwarts by Ministry intervention, no doubt caused the scandal that erupted over the summer. Blaise was shaking his head as they walked back to the dungeons.

"Caution? We can't proceed with caution, she already onto us." Harry looked askance at him and replied.

"I think it's a bit early. We haven't even had the first class yet." Daphne pressed her lips together. Sometime she marveled at how dense Harry could be.

"Yes, but that didn't stop her from attacking you," she said slowly.

Harry did not reply, but stayed silent and pensive.

The first classes all reviewed the importance of O.W.L.s. It was a rather tiring reminder by the third class, but Daphne supposed that the warning was necessary. She was not looking forward the amount of homework coming, seeing how her cousin had broken down the year previous.

Defense class was a joke, after Lupin and Moody she had gotten spoiled. Daphne had disapproved of Lupin when Blaise revealed he was a werewolf, but he had been a good teacher. He had noticed her skill in charms and recommended a book for her. It had been out of print in Flourish and Blott's but she was able to locate it in a used bookstore. The spells had proven useful when Harry's name was drawn from the Goblet the previous year, and she had a chance to practice on those with loose mouths. And no one managed to hammer in the belief of "Constant Vigilance" quite like Moody.

But this class was pathetic. After a lecture, the lesson consisted of reading a chapter of one of the worst books she ever encountered, _Defensive Theory_. It was incredibly insulting. When she finished reading the chapter she put her book down and looked at the course aims written on the chalkboard.

Then she raised her hand.

"Yes, Miss Greengrass?" asked the ball of poisoned cotton candy.

"I noticed that there wasn't any mention of using defensive spells," Daphne stated.

"Using defensive spells? Surely you aren't expecting to be attacked in class?" was her reply delivered with the same false sweetness. Daphne bristled. Her family was well known as one of the premier political families, and despite the fact she had never stepped in the Ministry, she knew how to backstab like an expert.

"No, Professor Umbridge," she shook her head and attempted a look of adoration. Blaise let out a snort of disbelief; perhaps the face had been a bit much. But it did not seem to matter, as Umbridge seemed to buy it. Harry said nothing, clutching his book tightly with his eyes glued to the pages.

"As I have informed the other classes, theories suffice in the classroom. And despite other's beliefs," she shot Harry a nasty look, "there is no immediate threat. If you have studied the theory there is no reason you shouldn't succeed in your O.W.L.s End of discussion."

Daphne lifted up her book again, flipping to a random page. She heard Harry shift next to her, and looked at him from the corner of her eye. His eyes were focused on the desk, and the intensity of his gaze starkly reminder her of the first real conversation that she had with Harry. It was only her second week in school, but she had made the mistake of insulting Harry's parents.

_She had just finished an enlightening conversation with her cousin. She had explained to Daphne the unwritten rules of Slytherin house, and the high standards they set for themselves. She walked over to a table of the corner of the room where Blaise Zabini sat alone._

"_Zabini, why the dour look? Don't tell me another stepfather died." Blaise sent her a glare._

"_Don't be ridiculous, Mum's not married now, there are too many Ministry workers watching her now. Harry went to talk to that Gryffindor, Weasel or something. I'm waiting for him to get back."_

"_Weasley? You were dumped for a poor Gryffindor! How far you've fallen!" She said in delighted shock. "I don't know why you're friends with Potter anyway. Everyone can see that he's a shame to the Slytherin house. He's an idiot, mundane, and clearly has no respect for Pureblood heritage." Blaise gave a tight smile._

"_Ah, so you didn't notice either. I don't blame you, took me a few weeks to notice. Just proves how good Harry is, if he can slip something past the Greengrass family." Daphne lifted her head._

"_What do you mean?"_

"_Harry is hiding something. I don't know what, but it is definitely there. I mean, he does seem like a shame except for two reasons. One he was sorted in our house quickly, the only person who faster was Malfoy. Two, he acts like my mother."_

_Daphne felt a chill down her spine._

_Mrs. Zabini was classy, beautiful, and charming. Her smile was warm, she was a gracious host, and threw a Christmas party to raise money for St. Mungo's every year. She had a secret recipe for pudding that was legendary, not even her house-elf was told. Men fell in love with her left and right, but she only married the rich. And somehow, they all managed to die, frequently when Mrs. Zabini was out of the country or volunteering at St. Mungo's. No one knew how she did it, and people didn't ask in fear they would be next. Daphne shook her head._

"_That's just ridiculous."_

_The next day, she insulted Harry's parents. She doesn't remember what exactly she said, but she does remember the laughter that erupted from Pansy's mouth, and the wide eyes of Blaise, and the convulsive movement that Harry made towards his pocket. It was when she was returning from dinner that she realized how angry he was, when he pulled her in an alcove off the entrance hall. Astonished by the tug at her arm, she reached for her wand, only to feel Harry's firm grip pressing her wrist to the wall that had appeared behind her. The other hand was pressed on her chest, just beneath her neck._

"_Don't insult my parents ever again. I don't tolerate it." He whispered to her. Daphne wasn't exactly afraid; after all, it wasn't as if Potter could do anything. They were just outside the Great Hall, they were first years, and she doubted that Potter knew which way to hold his wand. However, the direct confrontation made her uneasy._

"_As if you can stop me from doing what I want." She endeavored to keep her voice steady. Harry smiled._

"_I can feel your heart beating," he responded. Daphne cringed, her act dismantled by the thumping in her chest, he wasn't fooled. She heard footsteps approach and Professor Sprout appeared._

"_Is something wrong?" she asked._

"_Er, no professor. Daphne and I were just having a little discussion about what happened in Herbology. I was having trouble with the Devil's Snare and I noticed that she did well in class." Harry explained. Daphne was torn in horror and wonder at his words, the careful blend of truth and misdirection implying something that was unrelated to their discussion. He even waved a Herbology text, and as one of the pages flipped open, she saw her name scrawled on the cover. How had he removed it without her noticing?_

"_Ah, well that's very good to hear, five points to Slytherin for seeking from your fellow classmates. I expect you to give him good advice Miss Greengrass," Professor Sprout beamed, before heading out the doors. Harry abruptly turned to her once more, all light-heartedness gone from his face. Daphne spoke hurriedly, she was impressed by his misdirection, very aware of Blaise's warning the day before._

"_I won't insult your parents anymore. I swear it." He narrowed her eyes, surveying her in silence. She added more. "What's more, I'll spread the word to others that it isn't allowed either." Harry retreated out of her personal space, and Daphne noticed that his hands were empty once more. Tucking her hand into her bag, she felt the spine of her book under her fingertips._

"_Thank you Daphne." Harry said, his face erased of all annoyance, looking rather demure. He walked across the entrance hall, heading for a staircase. Now that he was at a safe distance Daphne was unable to resist asking a question._

"_What are you hiding?" He paused, turning to look at her with one foot on a step, quirking his head to the side. Harry didn't answer, observing her in silence once more. Daphne continued, hoping to press an answer from him._

"_You are hiding something, Blaise and I both know it. Are you… is it power? Do you have power, and are showing a mask to hide it? Is the whole thing an act?" Harry let out a bubble of laughter, and Daphne could tell that it was genuine. The anxiety she had felt just moments before drifted away, leaving her feeling a bit foolish. Potter was her age, there was little he could have in terms of power, even if he defeated the Dark Lord. It was rumored to be luck anyway, as opposed to power. Now it was pure curiosity that kept the conversation going._

"_Do I have power? Daphne, I'm in Slytherin." He said with a broad smile, and then he gave her a wink and proceeded up the stairs._

_As Daphne walked into the Common Room she saw her cousin sitting in front of the fire, practicing a tricky spell for Transfiguration. Her cousin had explained a great deal the night before, and one of the things she explained was the motto of Slytherin. Three words that summed up the success that Slytherin had, as well as the resentment the rest of the school felt towards them._

_**Want. Take. Own.**_

_After all, ambition and cunning were only positive traits if one was successful._

_Daphne had endeavored to be nicer to Harry after that, eventually becoming his friend. She was often puzzled by his attitude, which went against many of the common beliefs in Slytherin. While many sought glory and fame, he preferred to stay out of the spotlight, never mentioning any long-term goals or ambitions. He refused to pander to other's curiosity of his Parseltounge ability. But when the stadium burst into flames last year, she knew why Harry didn't seem to want power. He already had it. _

The Defense class ended in silence.

When they left the students burbled with chatter. Harry turned to her.

"What did you think?"

"I think that she's a foul bitch." Blaise let out a laugh at her response.

"You and everyone else in the school who's had her in class. Rumor has it that Diggory received a detention in his first class."

"Already? Bad move to start out the year by baiting her, she's probably only going to get worse as the year passes," Harry muttered.

"So what do we do about it?" Daphne asked. He shrugged.

"We wait for now, let people get nice and angry. The teacher's can't do anything because she is here under the Ministry's jurisdiction. When she crosses the line, we make a plan."

"What kind of plan? Big, small, one with fire?" Blaise asked cheekily. Harry laughed and swung his arm over Blaise's shoulders, and sang softly so only the two of them could hear.

"Blaise, Blaise, you think too small. Why pick one, when you can have them all?"

Daphne unleashed a feral smile, she already had an idea, and she had hours of Defense classes to fine-tune the steps. And judging by the gleam in Harry's eye, he had one too.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**George**

This was his last year at Hogwarts, the year of N.E.W.T.s, the year where they reigned as kings of the Quidditch Pitch, and where he and Fred would establish a strong hold on the minds of students. The year where they would become rich beyond their imaginings, and proved growing old didn't mean you had to be boring.

This year was disappointing.

Umbridge did something to the school, bringing with her a sort of depressive cloud that made everyone unhappy. And then there was the unanswered question whether You-Know-Who was back. The school was divided on his return, but it was one of those things that no one talked about. For one, everyone would have their own opinion and two, Umbridge would probably give everyone a detention for even thinking about it.

George knew HE was back, his family had moved into Grimmauld Place over the summer to make the place inhabitable for The Order of the Phoenix. He had seen the members prepare and plan, heard Harry's short confession and saw Dumbledore proclamation in _The Daily Prophet_. But that wasn't the real proof in George's mind. No, the point that really stuck in his mind was Percy walking out from the family.

George had heard of how You-Know-Who managed to divide up families and inspire fear and suspicion. He never would have believed that it could happen in his own family, certainly Percy was stuffy, but that was part of who his brother was. But he never believed Percy would choose "_The Minister_" over his own father. If someone told him about it six months ago, he would have laughed in the person's face and complimented them on their joke.

But some jokes aren't funny when they are true.

George shook his head, his mind was too preoccupied and there was little chance he could get some work done now. He stuffed his plans for Fainting Fancies back in his bag, and walked towards Gryffindor Tower. He had been trying to find out cheaper alternatives in order to make the first batch of illness candies. Fred had suggested the idea of Skiving Snackboxes a couple weeks back after another horrible Defense lesson and they had been working out it quickly ever since. Unfortunately, they didn't have much money to work with. Skiving Snackboxes was a guaranteed moneymaker, but the different ingredients to make them delicious and effective was costly, especially compared to cheaper alternatives like Canary Creams or Invisible Hats. George caught sight of Diggory walking down the corridor by himself, and he pretended to occupy himself with his bag. He wouldn't admit it, but a small part of him was stung that the Goblet of Fire had not chosen him over Diggory as champion last year. Unfortunately, Diggory decided that it was an excellent time to hold a conversation with him.

"Weasley, I have a question for you." Diggory kept his right hand firmly in his pocket, tugging at his bag with his left, which kept falling off his shoulder. George thought him very dim, why didn't he use his other hand? Diggory's eyes narrowed, and asked with some hesitance, "George, right?"

"Fred," he replied promptly, although somewhat surprised that Diggory had noticed the difference between he and his brother. Cedric looked abashed, and shook his head.

"Fred. Sorry." George hid his laughter; apparently he didn't know them _that_ well. "Right, well I was wondering, how well do you know Harry Potter? I've seen you talk with him in the corridors at times, and I need to talk to him, but I haven't been able to get a hold of him." George shrugged.

"Our brother Ron is good friends with him, so he spent a couple of weeks with us over the summer, plus he's got a wicked sense of humor. We know him pretty well. But if you want to talk to him, you should go to the meeting." At Cedric's look of confusion, George explained. "Half of the fifth years are friends and meet every Friday in the empty classroom next to Transfiguration, it should be going on right now. My brother and I have gone a couple of times, as they are extremely helpful in helping us with certain research. Unofficially, Harry's in charge, so that's you're best bet in finding him."

"Oh. I didn't know that. Thank you Fred." Cedric said and left towards the Transfiguration classroom. George noted that Cedric was determined to look cool, and did not remove his hand from his pocket the entire time.

Strange bloke.

* * *

"I guess we'll have to wait another year, maybe run the business by Owl Order," Fred said with some resignation. George shook his head.

"No, I'm sure that if we crunch some more numbers, and…" George drifted off and threw his quill on the table. "No, you're right. Even with the money we saved up, and future profits there's no way we will be able to buy a premise in Diagon Alley. I really wish we could though, having people who remember us from Hogwarts would allow us to rake in some profits immediately."

Fred grabbed the papers off the table and George followed. It was time for Quidditch Practice, but he didn't think it would be a good one, his mind still swirling with disappointing numbers. While the small amount of money they were raising from Gryffindor students showed they could succeed, it wasn't enough. Though he and Fred weren't that sensitive about family money issues, this one was one time they wished they had some to go with their name.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I wish I was a Malfoy right now, only not a complete prat. Of course, Percy seems to have inherited all of it in our family. Maybe that's why he turned against us," Fred said bitterly. George elbowed his brother, as Fred had been the one to initiate the teasing against Percy most of the time. He supposed that a small part of Fred felt guilty about it.

"What's this about being a Malfoy?" a voice asked from the other side of a wall. George turned his head and saw Harry Potter emerge from a secret passageway.

"Fred was just saying he wished we has some money so we could start our joke shop properly." George explained. Harry arched his eyebrow.

"Oh, yeah, the fake wands and such. How's that going?" Harry's nose wrinkled, "Never mind. I supposed you already answered my question if you wished you were a Malfoy. Money problems?" George glanced at Fred to see if he agreed with sharing the information with Harry. At his nod, George continued.

"You could say that. We have been saving our money for a couple of years and developed a nice product line. You haven't really seen much of it, but most of the items were pretty popular in Gryffindor. We were hoping to start the business right away, word of mouth from Hogwarts students would help us get on our feet. It doesn't look like we'll be able to do it though, which is too bad. The longer we wait, means that we'll have a harder time for immediate success." He fiddled with his broom, Harry already knew they weren't the richest family in the world, but it was awkward saying this when George was carrying a Cleansweep Five while Harry had a barely used Firebolt. They were about to exit the castle when Harry stopped abruptly, a pensive look on his face.

"I think, yes, yes that would be easy and have time…" He drifted off, his eyes focused somewhere above their heads, wiggling his fingers. George gave a look of alarm at Fred, who shot him a look of bafflement in return. Harry caught their attention again by clapping his hands, and turned to them once more with a broad smile on his face.

"There's a situation that needs to be dealt with, but I wasn't quite certain how I would do it. And I think our problems can solve each other's by working together. I can get the money for you, that's not a problem, and in return you can do something for me." George frowned, the last time they made a deal with Harry, they had been played rather magnificently into losing the Marauder's Map. He opened his mouth to reply when he heard the murmurs of his someone coming down the stairs. The rest of the Gryffindor team were heading out to the Quidditch pitch.

"Oh, good, you're already on your way down. We were looking for you, I have some exciting new ideas…" Angelina drifted off when she caught sight of Harry, her eyes flickering to his green tie before recovering herself. "Don't be late for practice," she said sternly. George gave her his best smile and watched her leave the castle, admiring the view as she left. The clearing of Harry's throat brought him back, and he felt his face burn when he caught Fred's self-satisfied look.

"Could you be any more obvious George?" Harry asked with amusement

"I'm Fred." George replied in attempts to avoid the question. He wished he had asked her to the Yule Ball last year, like Fred suggested.

"Liar. You're George," Harry replied firmly. George's attention focused on Harry once more surprised that he hadn't fallen for the trick. He was very smart, and George apprehension for making another deal with Harry grew.

"Why don't you go along and go meet your _precious _Quidditch Captain. You wouldn't want her to worry," Harry continued with a wry twist to his lips. It was moments like these that showed the stark differences between Slytherin and Gryffindor. George genuinely liked Harry, and he was impressed that Ron had managed to make friends with someone as cool as him. But sometimes he wanted to punch Harry in the face, especially when he had an all knowing, smug attitude.

He would bet one of his ears that Harry wouldn't see it coming.

"Go ahead, George. I'll catch you up on the details before we agree," said Fred with a smile. George shot Fred a nasty look, irritated that his brother was taking Harry's side and shuffled off to the pitch. Fred came to practice with a large grin on his face, and tossed George a wink.

"We're going to be able to open the joke shop this year. Harry just wants a few hours of our time and there's some danger, but I think we would end up with the better end of the deal."

"How much of a better deal?" George asked.

"One Thousand Galleons better," Fred relied, swinging his beater's bat enthusiastically, hitting a bludger. It soared through the air, and connected with the quaffle that was being passed to Katie Bell.

George's jaw dropped at the news, his shock missed by the rest of his teammates by Fred's spectacular aim. He recovered himself and gripped his broom tightly. Maybe Harry was playing them, trying to mess with their heads for the upcoming Quidditch match against Slytherin. But the enthusiasm spread through him anyway, and he too found himself making spectacular plays. Gryffindor ended up having a great practice, and Angelina gave them a congratulations at the end of the night. Even better, Angelina brushed her hand on his shoulder after practice.

Fred explained Harry's request on their way to get a celebratory drink at the Three Broomsticks that night.

"Two hours a week! One Thousand Galleons! That's all he wants!" George exclaimed. "Two hours a week, Fred! " Fred didn't respond but George was certain that it was because he hadn't said anything different in the past hour. They reached the secret exit, and George pressed his ear against the board, and slowly pushed, peering out from the crack. Not seeing any feet, he swung the board open fully and climbed to the Honeyduke's the storage cellar. Fred came out next and they headed up the stairs, out the store, and stepped out into the quiet street.

The Three Broomsticks was half full when George and Fred entered, heading towards the counter to order some butterbeer. Madam Rosemerta gave George a stern glance when she saw him, but said nothing as she handed him his drink. Sometimes George wondered how many students would sneak over to get a drink.

He settled in a chair at an empty table, enjoying the fizzy warmth and pulled out the plans for the store. Fred looked at the sheet, and pointed at the Skiving snackboxes.

"I think we should start on these right away."

"It's a pity they weren't invented so we could use them," George replied, thinking of various lessons he would have skipped. For example: all of his History lessons.

"Yeah, but at least we get the opportunity to profit from them. And all of the future Hogwart's students we'll be saving. It's an endeavor of goodwill, my brother!"

"Good evening, Weasleys." The familiar voice behind George caused him to choke on his drink. Clearing his throat he saw Sirius Black standing nearby. "I think it is best if you gentlemen follow me." Annoyed that their celebration was cut short he and George followed. There was always the risk that he could write a letter to their mother if they didn't cooperate.

They followed Sirius farther into Hogsmeade, past the shops and down a neighborhood street, before arriving at a small house. Sirius beckoned them inside silently, removing his coat and hanging it on a hook nearby.

"I have something for you," Sirius said, walking off to another room, and emerged carrying a package. "Harry said to give this to you, it is supposed to be for some sort of deal you made. I'm curious what that is about, but don't tell me anything. It might be difficult for me to keep the secret from your mother, she has a way of prying into people's lives." Sirius made a unhappy face.

"So, you won't be telling her that you found us in Hogsmeade?" Fred asked hopefully. Sirius let out a sharp laugh.

"No. I wouldn't dream of it. I think for a few years, I snuck over to Hogsmeade more than I stayed in." George was relieved; he had forgotten that Sirius was one of the people responsible for the Marauder's map.

"Oh, good. So how did you talk to Harry anyway? We just made the arrangement with him a couple of hours ago," George asked, tucking the package under his arm.

"He used the Floo. We were interrupted though, it looks like someone is monitoring the fireplace."

"Umbridge," Fred said with a scowl.

"Is she as bad as Harry says she is?" Sirius asked, a curious look on his face.

"Worse, she's foul," replied George.

"Hideous compared to a troll" Fred joked

"She makes me miss Snape, and he's still at the school," quipped George. A snort came from Sirius, his forehead creased with worry.

"Point made. I better send you off, Honeydukes will close soon." George waved a goodbye to Sirius as he and Fred walked the path.

"Nice chap that Sirius. Keeps his nose to his business and out of ours," George said to his brother.

"And what a brilliant business we'll have," Fred exclaimed.

The went back to Hogsmeade down a secret path, their minds filled with dreams of money and laughter.


	35. Ch 32 Hermione and Terry

**Hermione**

**It has always been the prerogative of children and half-wits to point out that the emperor has no clothes. But the half-wit remains a half-wit, and the emperor remains an emperor.**

Dream in _The Kindly Ones

* * *

_

Hermione looked up from her Arithmacy homework, as Seamus came in the Common Room from detention. He made a direct line for Hermione and the others.

"That woman is foul," Hermione said as she brought the prepared bowl of essence of murtlap for Seamus. "I can't believe that Dumbledore is letting her get away with this."

"I don't think he knows about it," Seamus said, closing his eyes when he dipped his bloody hand into the bowl.

"Well, you should say something," she said, pressing the parchment a bit too hard with her quill and making a tear. "She has no right to treat us like this, even if she is the High Inquisitor." Seamus snorted.

"And then what? Umbridge writes a letter home and I'm withdrawn from the school? No thank you, I'll just try to keep my mouth shut."

"I think Defense class is such a waste. I wish there was something we could do about her." She placed down her quill, her mind to full of other thoughts to continue.

"You could help us, instead of keeping all of you brains to yourself," Ron joked. Hermione felt the blood rise to her face. She always became embarrassed when someone told her she was smart, it was the sort of thing that never quite went away.

"I couldn't do that, I'm not very good at Defense," she argued. Everyone gave each other a look. Hermione pressed her lips together in annoyance; she was allowed flaws too.

"Hermione, you are the top student in the class." Neville said bluntly. "I know you can think of something."

"Well, yes, that is true," she admitted. "But I didn't do as well on Moody's or Lupin's exam."

"What does that mean, you missed one question?" teased Dean.

"No… I mean, yes… oh will you let me explain?" Hermione said with exasperation as the others burst out in laughter.

"Sorry, Hermione," Lavender said, brushing a stray hair behind her ear.

"Thank you. As I was saying, I wouldn't have known what to do in the Tri-Wizard Tournament, especially during the First Task. But all four of them knew what they were going to do. Moody talked about vigilance and instinct, he said it was the sort of thing that couldn't be read in a book, and that you would only learn it through practice and I'm not certain I qualify. Professor Quirrell was a dark wizard, Lockhart was a thief and there was a basilisk in the school, That woman is robbing us of our practice, and even if You-Know-Who isn't around, there are other dangerous things out there.

"Yeah, but what are we supposed to do about it? We can't practice ourselves, I wouldn't know where to start," said Parvati.

"Actually that's not a bad idea. We did help Harry prepare for the Tri-Wizard Tournament. We sort of have an idea what to do," interjected Dean with excitement.

"Better yet, we can get Harry to teach us, I think he owes us," Hermione suggested. "Remember those notebooks we helped him fill out last year? He has all sorts of spells, and I know that Sirius bought him a lot of defense books to help him with the Tournament."

"If Umbridge won't teach us, we'll do it on our own," Neville said cheerfully. "I'll talk to Ernie tomorrow in Herbology."

"And I'll spread the word to Terry in Arithmacy," Hermione said. Dean scratched his cheek, before sighing.

"Umbridge already stopped our Friday meetings, she's not going to allow this either."

"I know, which is why I think we should have the first meeting on our Hogsmeade weekend. She can't stop us off grounds," Hermione said triumphantly.

"Hermione…" said Ron seriously, "You are brilliant."

She felt herself flush.

* * *

The walk down to Hogsmeade was pleasant. Hermione walked with Ron and Neville down to Hogsmeade, heading for the Owl Office. Ron took the letter from her hand, testing its weight.

"I don't think things have been that interesting here for you to write such a thick letter to your parents," he commented, tossing it into the air. Hermione swatted his hand away as it came back down, tucking it under her arm.

"It's not a letter to my parents, it's for Viktor." Ron's smile promptly vanished, and he gave a noncommittal grunt. Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, restraining the irritated words she so desperately wanted to say. She thought it was perfectly acceptable to have a pen friend, and she wasn't a great fan of Quidditch, but even she could see that Viktor had some remarkable talent. But Ron's jealousy towards her was ridiculous. Simply because Viktor had chosen to write to her over Ron wasn't an excuse to treat her so coldly. The only thing holding her back was Neville's presence, she knew he wouldn't appreciate hearing their spat. So Hermione held her tongue and made a quick trip to the Owl Office before heading to the Hogshead.

There were more people at the Hogshead than she had anticipated. It was very exciting to see all the people who cared about her idea.

She pulled up a chair to a worn table, and wrinkled her nose at an unidentified stain. It wasn't the Three Broomsticks, but this old pub would have to do. Hermione clutched a piece of paper in her hand nervously as she watched the latecomers file in. One of the last people to arrive was Harry, who was holding his customary bag of Everyflavor Beans. Hermione saw his hand drift to nearby customer, and withdraw something. Hermione gaped; did Harry just take something from someone's pocket? A prod on her arm caught her attention, distracting her from analyzing what happened. Parvati was signaling for her to speak, and she stood in front of the large crowd, clearing her throat, giving them a shaky smile.

"Harry has agreed to help us learn Defense." She looked around the room, noting the other's reactions. Some of the older student's looked unimpressed, while other's looked at Harry eagerly. The person in question looked rather uninterested, peering inside his bag of candy.

"So? I don't recall putting him in charge," an obstinate voice called out. Hermione looked over, and gave a small grimace. It was Cormac McClaggen, well known in Gryffindor for being a show off idiot. Oliver Wood had kicked him off the Gryffindor team during their third year for not paying attention to the Snitch, replaced by Ginny Weasley.

"Well, no one asked you," replied Fred, "I don't recall you having an invitation to this gathering."

"That's true, you overheard our conversation. If you don't like it, you have no reason for being here," George continued, taking a large gulp of his drink.

"Is it true that you killed three people?" another voice asked. The room stilled instantly, the barman stopped cleaning the filthy mug in his hand, and the other guests all turned towards the Hogwarts gathering. Hermoine felt a pit of dread form in her stomach, realizing how foolish she had been. She thought that everyone here was gathered to hear about Defense class, but instead they wanted to interrogate Harry. He paid little attention to the inquiry, as he leaned on the back two legs of his chair, his gaze locked on the ceiling.

"Smith, you are an idiot," Daphne said with a sneer. "His answer is going to be "no" either way, whether he tells the truth or not. As if he would admit to that sort of thing in public." Zacharias Smith flushed with embarrassment, but he didn't back down.

"Everyone here was wondering about it, so don't take it out on me, Greengrass,"

Hermione could feel the meeting spiraling out of her control as small conversations began around her. They gave darting glances at Harry, waiting for him to speak his own words on the subject. Harry landed the other two legs of his chair on the ground with a significant thud, and began to tap his fingers on the old tabletop. The conversations died down as Harry began to speak.

"Hermione, when I said I would help you study, I didn't mean I would lead a rebellion against Umbridge and her stupid class. I meant that I would give ideas of what to study _on your own_. The Ministry is trying to stifle our learning, and Umbridge is going after the teachers, so I'm not going to get involved."

"But you said Defense was important," Hermione said, somewhat hurt by Harry's blunt denial.

"Yes, but I wouldn't be surprised that someone would accuse me of trying to build up my own army by leading an organized group," Harry replied. "You lot can do what you want, I only came for one reason, to express my views. It doesn't matter if you think I'm crazy, or a murderer, or the entire thing is a fucked up lie created by half drunks. Defense is a subject that requires a competent teacher, and all Umbridge is teaching us to do is how to sit and open a book. Now if you will excuse me," Harry rose from his seat and picked up his Honeydukes package. "I have to make a delivery."

Hermione looked at him in dismay as he walked out of the Hoghead. She placed her head in her hands, now what were they going to do?

"I'll do it." Hermione looked up, blinking her eyes rapidly. Cedric gave her an encouraging smile, and spoke louder. "It doesn't surprise me that Harry walked away from this, he isn't the sort of person to risk everything with Umbridge breathing down his neck. But I am. I learned a lot during the Tournament, and I'll show you." The crowd burst out in murmurs at his announcement, some even clapping, and Hermione beamed at him.

Cedric volunteering was the best thing that could have happened, even better than Harry. Over the summer, The Daily Prophet begun to make frequent accusations that Harry was mentally instable and a possible murderer. It made him controversial figure, even though the school could see that he wasn't the villain the paper painted him to be. Cedric's support of Harry was surprising to most, but he remained popular, enhanced by his status as the Tri-Wizard Champion and his outright disgust of Umbridge.

"Excellent, that is really wonderful. Well, that was all I wanted to say. I think it's important that we learn things from a person who knows what they are doing," Hermione said The meeting dismissed after a few more minutes, her mind buzzing with ideas.

Her good mood continued until the next day when she encountered Educational Decree Number Twenty-four, her stomach twisted as she realized that the Defense group would never begin.

She encountered Harry as she exited the Common Room, where he was waiting in the hallway.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" he asked, leading her down the empty hallway. Hermione gave him a glare, and stayed silent. Harry didn't react, and she was infuriated that he didn't notice her anger.

"No," she responded brusquely, and far too late to be effective. Harry's mouth quirked upward, a slight smile at his lips as he touched her arm and ushered her into an empty room. She settled herself on a nearby desktop, refusing to look at him. They stood in the room in silence, and her irritation towards Harry grew as the quiet stretched out. Fed up with the non-conversation she turned towards him, ready to tell him precisely how angry she was at him.

"I don't care that you are angry at me for what I said yesterday," Harry said, before she managed to get a word out. She gave him a cold look at his interruption. "You told me it was going to be a small quiet gathering and more than eighty people showed up, most of them wanting me to satisfy their curiosity. With that many people involved, I knew Umbridge would find out and try to blame me for it, which is why I left. And I was right, did you see the new decree?" Hermione sighed, her anger faded his logical argument.

"Yes," she admitted. "But that doesn't mean I forgive you for leaving yesterday."

"That's all right, I'll make it up for it right now, I'm going to figure out away around the decree."

"Yes, well about that… Cedric Diggory volunteered to lead the group after you left, so everyone will be turn towards him." Hermione admitted. Harry's eyes widened a fraction in surprise, before it faded into satisfaction.

"Did he? That's excellent news, I'll make a point to speak to him. In that case, I need you to use that brilliant brain of yours and figure out a way for people to communicate with each other without drawing Umbridge's attention. Can you do that?" Hermione nodded, and Harry gave her shoulder an awkward pat.

"Thank you Hermione." She smiled, and walked down with him to the Great Hall, parting ways inside.

* * *

Later that day, she saw Harry approach Cedric at dinner time. She strained to see over Seamus' head, elbowing someone to get a better look.

"Sorry Neville," she apologized

He spoke to Cedric briefly, handing him something as Umbridge approached. Hermione could tell by the unsatisfied look on Umbridge's face that she did not find anything suspicious.

"Excellent," she said to Neville. "It looks like Harry might have a plan."

"Harry has a plan? What kind of plan?" a voice called out as Neville was shoved off of his seat. George landed next to her, while Fred leaned in close, his arm resting on her shoulder. Hermione hesitated; she didn't want to get people's hopes up, only to have them crash down once more.

"Ahh, that sort of plan," said Fred wisely, rubbing his hand on his chin in a pensive matter.

"A super secret plan," continued George.

"We like those plans that Harry plans." Hermione looked at them with suspicion, wondering if Harry was also the root of George and Fred's flyers for test subjects.

"What would you know about his plans?" she asked. "Does this have anything to do with those announcements you hung up in the Common Room?"

"Ask us no secret's and we'll tell you no lies. Like I said before, remember that O.W.L.s are incredibly important to your future, just because they are months away doesn't mean that you should put off studying now. You cannot get a proper job in the Ministry if you dilly dally." Hermione looked at Fred in confusion, not making sense of his sudden change in subject.

She looked at Ron in confusion, only to realize that his gaze was settled on someone behind her. Turning her head, she found Umbridge passing by, giving them a sniff as she passed. Hermione seethed, she couldn't understand how someone so horrible managed to get the position of Hogwart's Inquisitor. She continued her meal, mulling over different ways to fulfill Harry's request. But it wasn't until she went back upstairs to Gryffindor tower that inspiration struck her. She saw the announcement created by the Weasley twins, and gave the sheet a glare. She stalked over to the board, ripping it off, and went to vent to Ron.

"Gallons of Galleons," she said, pointing at the bold lettering at the top of the flyer. "They can't test their pranks on other…" she paused, a thought entering her mind. Harry needed a way to get communicate, and she just found the perfect way.

Without another word, she headed off to the library.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**Terry**

"I have something personal to ask you, meet me at the south courtyard before dinner," Harry said next to him, before taking a right and heading down the stairs. Terry's face frowned in confusion at the abrupt conversation, before he shrugged and headed off to Ancient Runes.

Harry was already waiting for him later on that day, sitting on the edge of the fountain, a book placed before him.

"Harry, what's the fuss about?" Terry questioned, slinging his bag to the ground, where it landed heavily. He grimaced, fifth year was turning out to be just as bad as the older students had implied.

"You still interested in that study group?" Harry questioned without lifting his eyes off the page. Terry sat down across from him eagerly.

"Yeah, I am."

"You are aware that Educational Decree Number Twenty-four makes in more difficult for us to carry on without getting caught and risking expulsion? We do not know how far Umbridge will go to ensure her rules are followed, so this includes the possibility of having our wands snapped for insubordination," Harry continued in a mild voice. Terry throat closed up, the possibility had never occurred to him before. However, Terry had heard the rumors of her detentions, and it wouldn't be a stretch of the imagination.

"I hadn't thought of it that way before," he admitted, pleased that his voice had not betrayed his nervousness. Harry was on the verge of telling him something big; he would not have brought up the subject otherwise.

"Cedric and I had a talk, and we know a way around the rules in order to have the group and ensure that Umbridge can't punish us. It will take a little bit of extra work, but at the end of the year, we can not only pass our O.W.L.s., but really make a difference." Terry watched Harry ruffle in his pocket, and pull out a galleon.

"This is how you will be contacted, the identification number is charmed to change with the date of our next meeting. The meeting will be in room across from Barnabas the Barmy. Do not tell anyone about this, some of the people that came to the first meeting at the Hogshead were not really interested in participating. No one should be pressured into choosing one way and some of them were just gossipy students with too much curiosity."

Terry entered the room across from the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy the next Saturday, astonished by the room and was surprised to see how many people were already gathered. He recognized most of his classmates, some of Cedric's friends, and was surprised to see Anthony Goldestein standing nervously in the corner. Anthony was a likeable chap, but he wasn't the sort of person who enjoyed large crowds, and kept to himself. Terry walked over.

"Hey, Anthony."

"Hello, Terry. Surprised to see me here?" Anthony said with a slight smile. Or perhaps it was a grimace. Terry gave a nervous laugh.

"Um, yeah, a bit. No offense or anything."

"No, none take. Looks like Potter was serious about teaching this, and I would like to pass my O.W.L.s. Not to mention my mum is worried that Dumbledore was right about You-Know-Who being back. She was the only one left from her family the first time around. I think she would be glad that I'm taken extra steps as a precaution. It can't hurt either way."

"So you think He is back?" Terry asked; his voice hushed not to draw extra attention. Anthony shifted his weight on his feet before answering.

"I know that Potter doesn't have a reason to lie. He's already seen what happens to liars through Lockhart. And even if the Obliviation has scrambled his brains like The Daily Prophet said, it doesn't explain why he managed to get better before he got worse. If Dumbledore is losing his mind because of old age, I think that he would have been intelligent enough to realize it was happening and stepped down already." He shrugged, letting Terry draw his own conclusions.

"Very reasonable argument, Anthony," Terry said.

"Thank you. My dad's side of the family has been solicitors and debaters for a few generations. You learn to pick up these sort of things."

"Daddy isn't happy with the Ministry at all, that's why I'm here," a soft voice spoke. Terry looked over his shoulder and fought back a groan; it was Lovegood. He didn't really have a problem with her, as far as he could tell; she was harmless, if not a little odd. On the other hand, some of the girls like to tease her, and sometimes it got irritating to hear them gossip about her.

Cedric then walked in, and the room burst out in applause, and he gave a nervous wave. Harry stepped in after him, and leaned against the back wall behind Cedric.

"Here's the plan," Cedric said, after everyone had calmed down. "Susan Bones has volunteered to get our group approved by Umbridge." There were a few murmurs at this announcement. "Her aunt is head of the Department of Magical Enforcement, so she won't draw much suspicion if she creates a club that is devoted to studying Ministry rulings." Terry frowned, this didn't sound like what Harry had suggested. He sent Harry a questioning look, but he was leaning against the wall in a comfortable manner, quite at ease with the announcement.

"But it's not really going to be about that right? We're not going to be studying Ministry law, cause if we are, I don't want to be a part of it," Seamus said. Cedric ran his hand through his hair, and sighed.

"No, we… look, this is really Harry's plan, so maybe I should let him explain." Cedric said awkwardly. Harry gave Cedric a cool look, before stepping forward.

"Umbridge is going to suspect us immediately, most likely because Cedric and I are involved. As a result she will most likely stop in to watch us like she has in class. However, I'm certain that she has more important things to do that watch us every meeting. When she's here, we will be studying Ministry law. Everyone will be paired off and have one specific things to study, and will have that prepared for a specific date. Eventually she will get bored, especially when she hears a rumor of a group that Cedric is leading, one that meets in secret at a hidden location. Umbridge will be so paranoid about a secret group, and try to search for it, never succeeding because it won't actually exist. Meanwhile she'll never realize that she's already approve the group." The room burst out in excited chatter, and Terry elbowed Anthony Goldstein in the ribs, giving him an encouraging nod. Anthony shrugged and raised his hand.

"I think I can help you with that. I've been interested in law for ages, it sort of a family tradition. I haven't actually studied any of it, but…" Anthony drifted off, clearly uncomfortable with the attention. Cedric gave a loud clap.

"Excellent, this is already working out! We need five volunteers for the secret diversion group, and everyone else can just line up and sign their name on a piece of paper to pick a date for leading the Ministry lesson, and there will be an announcement for the next meeting."

Harry walked over to Anthony carrying a heavy tome.

"Here's the book I ordered to help everyone out. I would like to keep the lessons interesting in case if we find ourselves holding the entire lesson."

"You're Harry Potter," Lovegood spoke. Harry looked at her blankly, before turning to Terry with a questioning eyebrow.

"That's Luna Lovegood, she's a fourth year Ravenclaw."

"Your eyes would be great on my ears," she said in a misty voice. Terry tried to shoot an apologetic look at Harry but he wasn't paying attention, giving Lovegood a curious look before replying.

"Thank you for the compliment," he said with sincerity before walking back towards Cedric. The room was beginning to empty by now, so Terry hurried to put his name on the sheet. He recognized Hermione's writing at the top, the header clearly reading "Dumbledore's Army." Terry gave her a grin, as he signed his name.

"Dumbledore's Army?" he asked.

"It was Ginny's suggestion, she says that it Umbridge's worst fear, so it would be funny. Harry says we shouldn't have a name but I think he's being silly. It doesn't feel right without one."

Terry agreed, and signed his name on the sheet, saying goodbye as he walked back towards Ravenclaw tower.

* * *

The plan was brilliant.

Umbridge approved of club right away, with Susan and Anthony in charge. The meetings were held at the sight of their old Friday afternoon meetings, not in the secret room that Terry only entered once. Cedric and Harry were absent from the initial meetings, planning for the future defense lessons. Terry found those meetings surprisingly interesting, and learning more from Hermione's explanation of Goblin wars and their bureau in the Ministry than he had from Binns. As Harry predicted, Umbridge would often stop at the beginning of the meetings and listen in, never saying a word. But there was no mistaking her pleasure, not once did she interrupt a meeting with the clearing of her throat. And when the whispers of a hidden defense club began to surface, Umbridge no longer came. The public nature of their organization allowed them freedom to meet frequently, and as soon as Umbridge stopped coming, Cedric showed up.

He demonstrated how to cast a hex properly, and proper aim with a wand. The meetings could be described as organized chaos, not everyone came to the every meeting, because it might draw too much attention. There were Quidditch practices, some served detention, others watched for Umbridge. And if she ever poked her head in the doorway, she would find a group of students huddled over Ministry Law books, and she would leave satisfied. Cedric would divide thems in groups within groups, so not everyone was studying the same thing at one time. Some were ahead of others, some explaining magical theory, others pulling in from Charms lessons, but they were all learning something.

Defense class had been shuffled during the year, Umbridge was busy with her role as teacher, Hogwart's High Inquisitor, and a high ranking member of the Minsitry of Magic. As a result all of the fifth years has class together, a double class on Monday afternoons and on Thursday mornings. Heading to class one Monday, Terry had the brilliant idea to charm his Transfiguration text to look like the Slinkhard book. Umbridge never reviewed any material in class, choosing to work on other things as she sat at the front of the classroom, and he was studying his other homework. After class, he went to Harry and tried to explain the idea.

"It's like a disguise for the book!" he exclaimed. Harry reached for Terry's book, flicking the pages in his fingers before giving Terry an excited grin.

"Brilliant idea! Umbridge will never know about it!"

"Hem, hem." The joy drained from Harry's face as he recognized Umbridge's cough. "Never know about what?" she inquired.

"Er…nothing," Harry said unconvincingly. Terry used the opportunity to hide his book back in his bag, as Umbridge gave Harry a scrutinizing look.

"Mr. Potter, I believe you are lying to me, and I believe that I can provide give you a lesson in that. Detention tonight." Umbridge gave them both a sickly smile before waddling to another direction. Terry sighed in relief.

"That was close, if she had found out about the deception, we would have been in trouble."

Harry gave a nervous smile, "You have no idea. Excuse me, I have to go somewhere."

Terry said goodbye before heading towards the library, he had to find Michael and tell him about his idea.

* * *

It wasn't until the first Quidditch match of the season that Terry had proof of how well they were doing. The game was exciting and had some spectacular moves by both teams, although Terry could barely hear the commentary over Luna's Transfigured lion hat. Gryffindor won the close match against Slytherin, and afterwords Malfoy began to taunt the monetary status of the Weasley family. It was unsurprising, and quite frankly, he thought that Ron would have punched Malfoy if they could get away with it. Perhaps, it was Harry's slight shake of his head that made Ron keep their cool. But catching this silent interaction, Malfoy changed targets.

"Can you remember what your mother's house stank like, Po…" Malfoy's words were cut off abruptly by his cry of pain, crumpled on the ground a small distance away from where he once stood. Terry gaped at Malfoy before searching for the culprit, astonished to see Blaise with his wand outstretched. Daphne's decree that Harry's parent were never to be spoken of was ensured by her swift enforcement.

Blaise had advanced enough in Defense that he had acted before her, even though his face was a calm as every. But as he shifted to the side, Terry could see that Daphne had placed her hand on Harry's shoulder in an attempt to hold him back. The dark look on Harry's face was unsettling.

Malfoy was clutching his shattered arm, but Terry thought he might just have gotten off easy.


	36. Ch 33 Ginny and Luna

**Ginny**

_**Uh. Yesterday I did some really bad stuff. I mean real bad. You know. But today I did some good things. I don't know. You know.**_

Delirium, in _Season of Mists

* * *

_

She didn't really have a crush on Harry the first time she met him. It was the twins' fault, teasing her about her Harry Potter storybook she used to beg her dad read her every night. When Ron introduced him to her, it was all she could think about. Ginny could tell that it made him uncomfortable, so she tried to avoid him. And then, she realized she really did sort of have a crush on him, and it got even worse. He was a nice person, and he didn't laugh at her, even though he was in Slytherin. That was the really strange part, because he was nothing like the people her brothers like to tell stories about.

She found herself confused, and tried to sort out her thoughts on the nice little book her mother bought for her. It even wrote back, and soon she found herself writing more and more, an urge to write down all the details of her life in the small black book. She wrote about her brothers, her mother's food, and how often Percy locked himself in his room. Ginny even admitted to the book that she wouldn't mind being sorted into Slytherin, because if someone like Harry was sorted in there, it couldn't be all that bad. And when Tom admitted that he had been sorted there as well, she thought it was silly her brothers had been so against one house.

The Hat calling out "Gryffindor" was a disappointment.

The memory loss started out slow, she would find herself outside a bathroom that was always flooded when she thought she was going towards the library. Her homework would be misplaced on another person's bed. Then Halloween came around, and she couldn't remember where she had been, and Colin Creevy was attacked. It frightened her, but Tom calmed her down.

She doesn't know how Harry figured out she was the one responsible. But when he confronted her, a foreign sensation of alarm gripped her, leaving her feeling like a stranger in her own body. For that moment, Ginny knew that Harry was dangerous, and it only got worse when he took her diary away. The anxiety gripped her body so much that she couldn't move, and it wasn't until five minutes later that she could throw away her ruined papers. She was worried Tom would tell Harry all of her secrets, but there wasn't anything she could do because he was in a different house, and she knew it would be impossible to get it back.

But then the attacks stopped, and those strange moments of memory loss stopped. It was a Charms lesson that she realized that she had Petrified Colin, and she burst out crying because it was her fault, and she couldn't say anything, and any day now they would take her away from Hogwarts. But Harry never said a word about it, although she was still afraid of him.

And then Lockhart attacked him. She didn't want to go visit him in the hospital wing, but when she tried to explain the words sort of came out in a mumble, and Ron got angry at her, and pulled her off to the side.

"He knew that you opened the Chamber, and he didn't say a word. He was Obliviated, because he didn't want anything to happen to me. I don't know what your problem is, but you need to get over it. Harry's a good guy."

Ginny was surprised Ron knew about her involvement, but she couldn't explain that she was terrified of him. It was just something she had felt from Harry that made her uneasy.

When Harry went to breakfast the morning he woke up, that was the minute she knew she was right about Harry. Obliviated people shouldn't be able to act so _normal_. But Ron had a point, so she didn't say anything about it anymore. Everyone was entitled to some secrets.

She was surprised when he set the Quidditch Stadium on fire. She thought he was capable of doing it, but she thought he wouldn't be so obvious.

That summer was strange though, being in the same house as him. Harry was polite as ever, but she flinched every time he picked up a knife. But eventually he noticed and began to cut everything with a fork, which led to her having horrible daydreams where he would throw the fork at her and pop out her eyeballs and eat them like an hors d'oeuvre. But one day, he pulled her into an empty room, and she found herself hoping that Mad- Eye Moody would notice that she was late for dinner.

"What is your problem?" Harry asked while he held a firm grip to her arm.

She couldn't think of anything to say, so she kept her mouth shut. The silence stretched out, and then he asked with an incredulous voice

"Are you scared of me?"

Ginny couldn't look into his eyes, and just settled for a slight nod. He trembled, and then chuckled. It was a condescending laugh, and instinct caused her to snap back at him.

"I know there's something wrong with you! Some of the others might be fooled but I'm not." She glared at him defiantly, a small part of her trembling, but sick of being afraid.

"Ginny, I'm not normal, I just try to be for everyone else's sake. Anyway, you don't need to be scared of me." He got close to her, and whispered in her ear. "After all, you're on _my_ side." Then he took her hand and gave it a soft pat and walked off.

She looked at the door blankly, still feeling the phantom touch of his hand on hers. He hadn't denied her statement. Somehow the knot of unease and fear dissipated in her stomach. Perhaps it was his acceptance, or the reassurance that they were on the same side. And while she was still uncomfortable around him, Ginny wasn't looking over her shoulder anymore.

She thought Harry running a defense group was a horrible idea, but it was Michael's insistence that made her go to the Hog's Head. It turned out to be a great deal more fun that she thought it would be. For one think, Harry wasn't in charge, and two, they spent almost as much time bashing Umbridge as they did learning hexes. She got quite a few on Michael before she realized he wasn't trying to hurt her, and she partnered up with someone else. She thought it was irritating that he treated her like she was made of glass, when she was perfectly capable of using her wand.

* * *

McGonagall woke her up in the middle of the night a few days before Christmas break. Her mind was still fuzzy as she was led to Dumbledore's office with her brothers. Much to her surprise, Harry was there as well, although he was fully dressed. She felt self-conscious and tugged the tie of her dressing gown, but quickly forgot when she heard her father was attacked.

They were sent through the Floo to Grimmauld Place, Sirius already waiting for them at the fireplace with mugs of butterbeer. They were reassured to hear her father was found early, and not in critical danger, although he was placed in St. Mungo's until the Healer's found a way to replenish his blood do to a snake bite.

It was the next day when she found Harry in the library, huddled over a book.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Ginny mumbled, trying to think of an excuse to leave without seeming rude.

"Ginny, I have a question." She shuffled her feet a bit, but stood in the doorway. "When that thing, you… let me start over. What do you remember about the Chamber of Secrets?"

Her insides turned to ice, because as much as she didn't like Harry, he had never brought up the subject before. But there was something different about him this time around. There were dark circles around his eyes, and he was slumped over his cup of tea with defeat. It was so strange for him to carry a look of exhaustion, and he looked... vulnerable. As if the human had come out from behind the mask he wore. She supposed that was what made her answer the question.

"Nothing. I don't remember anything. I remember having these giant blank spots and finding myself outside corridors I don't remember walking to. If I had known that I was the one causing it…" Ginny let the sentence drift off, the embarrassment still heavy in her heart.

Oh," Harry twiddled with the handle of the mug.

"Is that all?" Ginny asked, "I have presents to wrap."

"Uh, yeah. That's all. Thanks," Harry said, going back to his book.

Going back to her room, she flopped onto the bed and began to write a letter to Michael. It wasn't until she signed her name that the implication of his question hit her.

She spent the rest of the night wide-awake, clutching a kitchen knife fearful that Harry was possessed. But when she stumbled to breakfast the next morning, Harry was back to old self, the slump of his shoulders gone. When Ron commented how horrible she looked, her face turned red as she realized that she had once again been made a fool.

They went to visit her father at St. Mungo's on Christmas Day. The visit started out well, and erased most of the concern she had over her father's injury. However, the mood changed immediately when Percy walked in the door. Ginny stared at him, before rubbing her eyes. Oh yes, he was still there. Looking at her brothers she found similar faces of disbelief, Ron was slack-jawed, Fred looked grim faced, but George looked hopeful. Harry walked swiftly out of the room with Sirius, leaving the confrontation a family matter.

"Hello Father," Percy said softly. "I'm glad to see that you are doing well."

"I didn't think you would come," he responded in a gruff voice

"You're my father, how could I not come?" Percy asked incredulously, his face pale at her father's admission.

"You didn't seem keen on calling us family a few months ago," Ron said angrily. "You left us for your new job in the Ministry."

"It was a powerful position, Ron," Percy admonished, "I couldn't very well say no to such an offer by the Minister."

"The Minister_,"_ Ron spat out, "Never had any respect for our family! Fudge mysteriously dies over the summer, Malfoy is elected to the position, and you don't find that suspicious! I thought you were the smart one in the family! I don't know why Harry thought you would come around."

With these final words, Ron went out of the room searching for Harry, and Ginny followed him. She didn't really have anything nice to say to Percy, and thought it would be best to keep her mouth shut until her mother wasn't around. They caught Harry coming out of another door as they went up the stairs.

"I was visiting Bode, the one who was injured a few weeks ago," he answered, sensing their unasked question.

"Oh right. How's he doing?" Ron asked. Ginny was confused, how did Harry know that man?

"Oh not too bad, he's getting better. According to the nurse, he might be back to normal by the end of the year."

Ginny and Ron followed Harry and entered the long-term care wing. A nurse was going around and depositing various gifts around to patient tables. The nurse set down a potted plant, and Ron took the calendar of hippogriffs and posted it on the wall. Bode was propped up against a stack of pillows, his eyes moving back and forth. It was clear he was aware of what was going on, although the sounds coming from his mouth were not clear. Harry was poking at the potted plant when the nurse spoke.

"Oh, dear, are you leaving already, Mrs. Longbottom?" Ginny flipped around hearing the familiar name, astonished to see Neville come out from a curtain.

"Yes, that will be all for today," Mrs. Longbottom replied.

"Neville, what are you doing here?" Ron asked in surprise. Mrs. Longbottom sniffed when she heard the question.

"Friends of yours, Neville, dear?" Mrs. Longbottom asked. Neville's response was a silent nod, and Ginny got the impression that he would rather have been anywhere but here. His grandmother seemed oblivious to Neville's embarrassment, and continued speaking to them.

"You two are clearly Weasley's, your parents are fine people. And of course, I know who you are," she said, nodding at Harry.

"Do you? Well, I'm glad somebody does, I'm not to certain myself nowadays," Harry responded.

Mrs. Longbottom's face hardened. "I hope, young man, that was not poorly chosen jest at my son's mental health."

"Not at all," Harry replied. Mrs. Longbottom, catching the look of confusion on Ginny's face, and Ron's strains to see behind the curtain to answered their unasked question.

"Neville's parents were tortured to insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

Ginny stiffened and Ron stilled, and Neville was averting their gaze. Harry seemed unperturbed, although his head tilted to one side. There was a shuffling noise of footsteps, and Alice Longbottom emerged, and holding out a wrapper to Neville. Ginny recognized it from Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. There was a shattering noise, Harry had dropped the plant was holding. Ginny gaped at him as he ran out of the room, staring at the closed door in shock, while Mrs. Longbottom sniffed.

"I'm disappointed, I thought that he would understand the value of bravery against the face of evil," she said.

"Gran, I told you Harry is in Slytherin, they have a different way of seeing things." Neville mumbled in embarrassment. Mrs. Longbottom pressed her lips together in dissatisfaction.

I don't care that he thinks differently Neville, that sort of response is unacceptable. It was a pleasure meeting you two," she said cordially to Ginny and Ron. Her brother turned to her.

"I didn't know that about his parents, and I'm not surprised he kept that to himself. It's not exactly a conversation starter." He shook his head, and caught sight of the plant. "Help me pick this up before the nurse comes back, I don't want to be blamed because Harry ruined Bode's present."

He tossed the ruined plant in a nearby waste bin, and they went back downstairs, hopeful that the yelling at Percy was over. They found the rest of the visitors gathered at the exit getting ready to leave. Mrs. Weasley's eyes were bright red, but there was a smile on her face, and the twins looked satisfied. Harry sat in a chair off to the side, Sirius next to him, glaring at any of the people who dared to look at him the wrong way.

"Where did you go Harry? It was rude of you to leave like that, Neville's Gram wasn't impressed, and you made us pick up the mess." Ron asked.

"Around, " he replied with a hoarse voice.

Ginny narrowed her eyes, uncertain what caused his dour mood to return. Fred explained what had happened in hushed tones as Bill talked loudly to his mother as they went back.

"Percy said he can't stand Malfoy, and admits he made a bad choice."

"That's all he said and you lot forgave him?" Ron cried.

"Well, no. There was quite a bit more yelling and tears, but when he admitted he pranked Malfoy with one of our fake wands, we sort of forgave him," George admitted with a shrug.

They arrived at Grimmauld Place and climbed out of the automobile. Harry waved to Mundungus as he sped away to return the vehicle to the unsuspecting owner. Ginny lingered next to him as the entered the building. He had been silent during the trip back.

Summoning her courage, she confronted him as everyone else went to put up their coats.

"Have you been possessed?" Ginny asked, encouraged by the nearby voices in the hallway.

Harry's eyes grew wide briefly, before shaking his head. "Not exactly. I'm just easily distracted right now." Harry's hands brushed over the wallpaper. "But you are sort of right, I saw what happened at the Ministry when your father was attacked. It was like I was there, only I know I was at Hogwarts. When I woke up I contacted Sirius to rescue your father. That is why I asked you about being possessed. I wanted to make sure that I was in control of myself. He knows about it, I guess they are working on a solution so it doesn't happen."

Ginny sighed in relief, if Sirius knew that Harry was seeing visions, which meant it was expected of him. None of the adults seemed to be panicking from what she could see.

"Do you know why you can… see these things?" she asked, she had never heard of such a phenomenon before unless the person was a Seer. And the idea of Harry speaking in a misty voice like Trelawny was laughable.

"I was hit by a killing curse when I was one. These sort of strange things are expected." His matter of fact tone caused her to wince. Why was she such an idiot around him?

"Oh, well..." Ginny's reply drifted off, as Harry had already begun walking away. As she looked at his back, she sighed and went towards the kitchen to find Sirius. Harry might think that he had the situation under control, but Ginny thought there was no harm in warning his godfather.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**Luna**

"_Wit beyond measure is life's greatest treasure."_Luna was always proud that she was sorted in Ravenclaw. Yes, she always thought she was clever before, but hearing it come from the Sorting Hat was another matter. Unfortunately, not everyone was as clever as her, not even her housemates. Some of them called her Loony Lovegood, and they took her things. It was their way of making her feel strange, and teasing her, but Luna was never really bothered by it. She had her mind, and she had her father and it was enough. She knew that she was a bit odd, but that was what happened when you saw your mother die in a potions accident. There was no use in trying to fight it.

It was upsetting sometimes, and she frequently found herself alone in class when they were supposed to be practicing in pairs. And then in her second year, she ended up partnering with Ginny Weasley. She was an outgoing of person, and she didn't seem to be bothered by pairing up with Luna in class either. They got along well enough, and Luna noticed she was one of the few people who called her by her name. But Luna was very good at reading people, and she could tell that Ginny was uncomfortable and her, so she didn't make a fuss about it.

This year on her way to Hogwarts, she shared a compartment with some Gryffindors, and when Ginny introduced her, she called Luna a friend. A small pool of joy burbled in her belly, and she felt a bit ashamed that she never thought the same thing about Ginny. And so she decided to be the best sort of friend she could be.

Her father had always warned her of the Ministry's secret plots, and when she met her new Defense of the Dark Arts teacher she found herself mystified. How could the Ministry have secret plots when it had people as obvious as Umbridge in power? And really, it wasn't hard to figure her out at all. Luna went to the meeting at the Hogshead knowing her father would approve and sat down next to an older Hufflepuff. She listened to the introduction, and was a bit disappointed that most of the people weren't as interested in fighting against the Ministry like she was. Most of them were interested in hearing Harry speak; they were shallow people like that.

She was quite surprised when he said that he wasn't really interested in starting the group, as far as she could tell, he was very anti-Ministry. She wondered why Harry was acting strangely; it was like there was another person in his body. Cedric volunteered right afterwards though, so everyone around her was happy. The excitement lasted through the day, only to shatter on the ground when they saw Educational Decree Number Twenty-Four. Luna thinks that maybe the hag was Umbridge in disguise, she was certainly acting shifty during the meeting.

But a few days later Cedric approached her with a galleon, telling her where to go for the next meeting. It is one of the few times she's ever been invited for anything, and she spent the rest of the day making necklaces out of knickknacks she's collected. She took care with the one she wanted to give to Ginny, placing a shiny button she transfigured in the very center. The meeting wasn't all that exciting though, so she keeps the necklaces in her bag for another special time.

But things were a little bit more interesting when Harry Potter came over. She has never really looked at Harry Potter before, she had a feeling that staring at him would make him very uncomfortable. So when she looked at him close up for the first time, the first thing she noticed was how much she liked his eyes. They were bright green, happy, and hopeful, and if she twisted her head just so, it looked as if there were tiny flecks of silver dotted in one. Luna wished that there were marbles that looked like his eyes, so she could wear them like earrings.

"Your eyes would be great on my ears," she mentioned to him, she was rather pleased that he didn't mind her compliment. Some people were so _sensitive_ about that sort of thing.

* * *

Dumbledore's Army was a lot of fun. She used some old butterbeer caps and a unicorn hair and used them to make her galleon into a bracelet, and tied it on her ankle. There were times during Potions class and the coin would grow warm, and she would let out a giggle. Professor Snape would always give her a nasty look, but the rest of the lesson would always pass by so quickly that she never minded. Anyway, he always seemed like such an unhappy man, it wasn't much of a surprise that he was so lonely.

When the Quidditch match came up, she spent a lot of time on her hat, and was quite proud of hit. She considered making it a snake hat to cheer for Harry's team, but in the end she decided to root for Gryffindor because Ginny was her friend first. And it wasn't as if Harry was on the team anyway. People seemed to like her hat very much, there was a lot of talk about it in the hallways and a lot of people had big smiles to their faces when they saw it. Luna pulled the hat off her head, wondering where she would keep it. She hoped the others wouldn't take it, she was quite proud of her work this time. A large crowd that was gathering, and hearing Malfoy's voice caught her attention. He seemed quite unhappy, and judging by everyone's body language he wasn't saying nice things. Oh, now that was silly. Right now he had everything, one little Quidditch match couldn't be that important.

Malfoy flung himself backwards, and Luna frowned. That couldn't have been terribly comfortable, was it a new dance move of sorts? Perhaps she had missed something. She glanced at the other people, they didn't seem too happy either, and it appeared he said something silly as well. She shrugged and walked off, humming a tune in her head, trying to make a new dance move of her own.

At Christmastime, Luna pulled out an old issue of the Daily Prophet. Her father wouldn't normally approve of the paper being in the house, some of the things they printed were such lies, in made her a bit unhappy to see that some people believed in them. But she needed this because there was a picture of Harry on the front. Digging into her satchel, she also found a picture of Ginny that Colin had taken. Over the summer she had a wonderful idea of drawing a large mural of Crumple-horned Snorkacks in a field, where her mother was having a picnic. But every time she started, her mind would grow oddly blank, and the image in her head couldn't be drawn on the wall.

Perhaps, she thought, the image in her heart was too much for her mind.

So now she decided to draw her friends. Ginny was easy to draw, and Luna took great pleasure in drawing the lines of her hair, and the wrinkles in her robes. Harry on the other hand, was difficult, even though she had a picture of him, it didn't seem to be him. Luna tucked the pencil behind and sat on her bed, scrutinizing the photograph, trying to figure out how it was un-Harry. It was his eyes, she thought, as her fingers ran over her earrings. They looked flat, and not like a person at all. Luna frowned in concentration as she heard her father call her for dinner. Placing the paper down, she headed downstairs.

"What have you been working on Luna?" he asked her at the dinner table.

"I was drawing pictures of my friends, the ones who are fighting against the Ministry's lies," Luna replied, dipping her finger to pop a bubble in the soup. Her father made a noise of excitement.

"Fighting the Ministry! Excellent, I'm very proud of you, my Luna! And do you wish to share how you are doing this?" Luna looked up to her father's beaming face.

"Oh, not much yet. Right now it's the symbol more than anything. Harry Potter's in charge of it, although some people think it is Cedric Diggory. I find that rather odd, since Harry is the one who is telling him what to do."

"Too often people are caught up in image to see the true nature of things," he said wisely. "I think it would be wise for me to make some dirigible tea for you this afternoon, it prevents that sort of small minded thoughts from entering one's brain. And how do you find Harry Potter's mind?"

"Ooooh, I think he has a lovely mind! It's very open, maybe more than anyone in the school. And he's very clever too; he's a student and a teacher at the same time. I think it must be hard to be two people at the same time. Although," she paused placing her spoon back down on the table, "He's also very confused. It's as if he doesn't know who he is at times."

"Perhaps there is an infestation of wrackspurts at Hogwarts. I'll makes certain to pick up some gurdyroots for you, and keep an eye out for them Luna, we can't have our hero infected with them."

Listening to her father's advice, she watched out for Harry in the hallways. And one day, she thought she saw something. He was coming out of Defense class, trailing behind most of his classmates, so she called out to him.

"Harry, Harry, I think I see something…Oh!" He turned around, and looked at her in bafflement.

"Yes?" He asked with some exasperation. Luna blinked, and she saw Blaise snicker next to him. Luna shook her head, and then shook her head some more, enjoying the jingling of her earrings.

"Oh, it's nothing. I was going to warn you that you were losing your mind. But it turns out it's not even yours to begin with. You already knew that didn't you? Have a nice day." With that she trotted away.

* * *

During her visit to Hogsmeade, she had a very strange encounter on her way back from the Owl Office. Luna knelt down when she saw a grey cat come around the corner to pet it, when she heard a scuffle of boots on wood. Turning around, she found a girl about her age balanced on a nearby fence. The girl wore mismatched outfit, which was clearly visible under her transparent raincoat. She looked forlorn, so Luna walked over to her, hoping that she could cheer her up.

"Greetings," she said, giving a wave.

"Hello," the girl replied, her lip shook as a warning of oncoming tears.

"You look very unhappy, can I help you with something?" Luna hoisted herself onto the fence as well. It was uncomfortable.

"I don't think so. I don't think there's anyone that can help me, although Harry made it better sometimes, but right now it's because of Harry that I'm having this problem and… I don't know." The girl was twisting her hands, and Luna placed hers on top of them until they stilled.

"I know a Harry, he's a very nice person," Luna replied. "I wonder if we are talking about the same one, my Harry has lovely eyes."

The girl cheered up instantly with these words, grabbing both of Luna's hands and clasping them in hers. "Oh! We are! I think that we should do something to celebrate, maybe take a trip to the moon, or buy something from a catalogue or make some sort of gourmet toast and sell it to people with coattails!"

Luna shook her head. "I can't go to the moon, and I don't have any money on me. Plus, I don't think I would like to make some bread, dry it and overcharge people for it anyway." Luna quirked her head, and gave a small smile. "But we could always do a dance."

So they did.

"So what was your problem with Harry?" Luna asked when all the pirouettes and twirls had left her. The girl was laid out on the ground, her finger tracing a pattern on the earth beneath her. Luna wondered how come the girl wasn't shivering from the cold, as she looked at the girl's raincoat.

"Well… I sort of…I…I had a bad day once. And when that happens sometimes I do some bad things. And Harry found out about something I did a long time ago. And I tried to talk to him, but he ran away, I was too scared to go after him and ever since then I haven't really talked to him because he is angry at me and I MISS HIM!" The bottom of the girl's lip had begun to wobble again.

"Maybe he was surprised, people need time to get over surprises. If you talked to him today, I think he would be happy to see you."

The girl looked up, a hopeful expression on her face. "Time. I haven't been able to keep track of time for a long…um… _time_. Do you think I've given him enough of it? I hope he'll talk to me now."

"Well, try to think of when you saw him, and all the things that have happened since then." The girl sat up, and held out her hands, counting on her fingers.

"One; two; grey cat; snowstorm; twelve zillion, five trillion, fifty-four thousand and one sixth; fat baby." She paused, and then clapped her hands. "I saw him on Christmas!"

"It's been almost two months. I think you should be fine now."

"Okay! But I'm worried that he won't walk to talk to me and then I'll be there and I might just have to crawl and hide somewhere. Will you let me send a message through you?"

"I don't mind," Luna replied.

"Okay, come here." The girl beckoned with her finger, and Luna twisted her head to the side as the girl leaned forward to whisper in her ear. There was a ticklish sensation at Luna let out a giggle, a ringing noise sounded, and a flash of color. Luna's eyes fluttered, and she looked around in mystification. The girl had disappeared, and her only company was the grey cat sprawled out on a nearby rock. Confused but unshaken, Luna headed back to Hogwarts.

* * *

It was a few weeks before she was able to talk to Harry. She had searched for him when she came back from Hogsmeade, but he was nowhere to be found. He was missing from several of the D.A. meetings as well. He was present during meals, but Luna didn't think this was the sort of conversation that should be held in public setting. Finally, she managed to find him in an empty hallway.

"Harry, I was told to give you a message."

"What's the message?" Harry looked at her expectantly, his foot tapping on the ground, echoing down the empty hallway.

"I don't know," Luna replied, "I just know there was a message by a girl." The tapping of Harry's foot set a familiar rhythm, Luna hummed along, her earrings clinking once more in tune. Perhaps it was the sound of the universe. The song came to an end, and Luna came back to herself, it was very odd. She didn't even know that she had gone away until she came back.

"Oh, Harry! Did you see that! I think I was attacked by a wrackspurt!" she exclaimed. She felt giddy beyond belief. She knew wrackspurts were real, and she had explained to everybody that it was true, and this was wonderful, because it was proof. It didn't matter what anyone thought anymore, because it was true.

"Yeah, I saw. Although I wouldn't call it a wrackspurt," Harry said with a smile.

"Will you tell the others?" Luna asked. She rooted through her bag, trying to see if she had a gurdyroot with her.

"No." At his refusal, she looked up in disappointment. She really hoped that if Harry admitted he saw one that others would understand that they were real. But Harry hadn't finished. "If I tell them what I saw, then they wouldn't understand. We make them real because we know about them; we talk about them, not because they physically exist. Our stories make them real, but that can't be proven. That what makes them magical creatures, people who want proof will never learn to believe."

The memory of her father reading stories of fantastical magical creatures rose to her mind. Luna continued to have those beliefs to comfort her father when her mother died. Their shared beliefs kept them close, the belief of a fantastical world beyond the norm consoled her on nights when all she could think of was her mother's empty chair. But to hear these beliefs spoken out loud by another person with such clarity made her heart catch. Her eyes began to sting, and she blinked rapidly, hoping to stop the watering of her eyes. Someone like Harry wouldn't appreciate her crying, and Luna gave him a wobbly smile.

"Luna, I was wondering. Do you still have the hat you made for the Quidditch match?" Her heart twisted, many people had made fun of it, but this was Harry, so maybe he wouldn't do that.

"Yes, would you like to borrow it?" Harry looked out the window, drawing a small top hat across the condensed window.

"I was wondering if you would let me have it." A burble of excitement welled in her stomach, and a small laugh emerged from her throat so all she could do was nod her head.

"Thanks, you're amazing, you know that?" His hand brushed along hers for a moment, and Luna took good look at him. His head was tilted to the side, and a rare expression of sincerity adorned his face, and a small tendril of joy rose in her heart. She beamed, and he thanked her and said goodbye. As she watched Harry walk down the hallway, she pressed her hand to her mouth.

The smile was still there, and Luna doubted it would go away anytime soon. She realized with some astonishment, that she was quite smitten with Harry, not that it really meant anything. Harry was emotionally insecure, and Luna did not think that either of them would be very happy with a relationship. But his acceptance of her today had done something for her. Over the years it had gotten harder to stay true to who she was. Harry had accepted her though, and it was enough. She wouldn't settle for changing who she was for other people's benefits.

Walking back to Ravenclaw Tower, Luna couldn't resist doing a pirouette. A few older Hufflepuff's down the hallway snickered at her, but she didn't care.

She had a hat to find.


	37. Ch 34 Cedric and McGonagall

**Cedric**

_**I like smoking cigarettes. It's something normal people do.**_

_**I smoke a cigarette, and pretend I'm normal.**_

-Element Girl, in _Façade

* * *

_

Harry Potter was a question mark, wrapped in a riddle, placed in a box of crazy. Despite these beliefs, Cedric found himself following the irritating twerp, even though it should have been the other way around. Competing against Harry in The Tri-Wizard Tournament caused Cedric to learn quite a bit about him. Mostly, that Harry did what he wanted, when he wanted, and you could only keep up with him if he let you.

Cedric didn't think he would be chosen as the Hogwart's champion, as he was still in his sixth year. But he tried to be casual when his name was drawn out of the cup; he acted like the whole thing didn't scare him to death. When Harry said that the tournament was about Cedric and Hogwarts; and he wouldn't be competing very much at all, well, Cedric thought it was a bluff. Some sort of trick the Slytherins do in order to get ahead by making him lower his guard and humiliate him.

So when Cedric was hit with an odd desire to take a nap by the pond, and woke up hours later by the sound of dragonkeepers passing by, he didn't even think of sharing the news with Harry. Then Harry confronted him before the First Task, and there was a note of desperation and betrayal in his voice that couldn't be faked. And when Cedric went out to the stadium, and heard the cheering crowd, and saw his dragon, he felt even worse. If he had seen the dragons he wouldn't have kept the information to himself, he would have told everyone, but it was too late now.

Cedric found himself in awe when the Quidditch Stadium was destroyed, and knew that Harry would be ruthless in achieving his goal.

But when The Second Task came around Harry had an awful strategy. Yes, he had reached his captive first, but there was no way he would have achieved the highest score by stealing the Durmstrang ship. Cedric eventually realized that Harry did it for the challenge and the adventure, accepting the month's worth of detention that came with it. By the third task, Cedric was unsurprised that Harry caught up with him and managed to race him to the Cup. The real bombshell was that the Cup had been a Portkey, although Harry managed to keep a level head. Cedric was too shocked to think straight, and in his panic he reached for the Portkey when saw a man approach.

Then he left Harry behind.

Harry told him the barest details of what had happened later, and Cedric didn't pester him. Hufflepuff was supposed to be the epitome of fairness, and loyalty, and a Hufflepuff wasn't supposed to leave anyone behind to be tortured. His father tried to convince Cedric that Harry was losing his mind, showing him some of the Prophet articles, but he wouldn't hear any of it. His father hadn't ended up in a graveyard, and he didn't hear the voice that called for his death.

It's something that he never told anyone, that the very second he had touched the cup, and left Harry behind, he saw a flash of green, and heard three words.

"_Kill the spare."_

Since Harry lived, it meant that he was the spare.

That irritated him, the word 'spare' like he was some sort of trinket that could be replaced, interchangeable from any other person in the world. At night, his near death experience would sink in, as he dreamed of green light and a cold, high voice. Over the summer he would pause to notice his mother's vibrant smile, and he wondered how his death would have effected her. Would his father have cried at his funeral, or stayed solemn and silent? These thoughts carried him through the summer, and by the time seventh year came around he found himself quite changed from the rest of the school.

He felt older, responsible, and furious that some people were willing to look the other way when the signs of danger were all around. So he was vocal about his support of Harry, and tried his best to seem robustly sane, and logical, and as cool as he was when he first heard his name drawn from the Goblet of Fire. And lately it seemed that he had to do that more and more, because Harry did seem to be coming unhinged, not that he blamed him. Cedric remembered his O.W.L year, although he didn't have to deal with added pain of Umbridge. That woman that made Cedric decide to never work for the Ministry, despite the fact he had wanted to work there just like his father since he was a child.

He argued with Umbridge that first day, if it weren't for Moody and Lupin he would have never been able to survive the Tri-wizard Tournament. Studying Defensive Theory, and never using a wand in class was rubbish, and preparation was priceless, he argued.

"Detention, Mr. Diggory," was her only response.

Cedric was horrified that she made him use a blood quill, so he wrote to his father to complain. His father never responded, his classmates agreeing that they had been receiving letters late, and that's when he figured out that Umbridge was going through his mail. Cedric knew he needed to warn Harry, based on her snide comments, it seemed like she had it out for him. So he asked the Weasley twins some questions and found Harry almost immediately.

He was surprised that Harry already knew about Umbridge, having met her during a hearing at the Ministry over the summer.

"You need to keep your head down, and be a good little Hufflepuff." Harry's response made Cedric bristle.

"I can't. I've already spoke my mind to her, and people need to know that there's someone looking out for them." Cedric remembered the appraising look Harry gave him, and the short nod that followed.

"All right, fair enough. You've chosen the difficult road; I respect that. Just don't expect me to up there with you, that is not my style. I prefer to stay in the shadows."

Cedric looked at Harry skeptically. "How is setting fire to the Quidditch Stadium, being in the shadows?"

"That," He said grandly, "was me angry."

"Stealing the ship?"

"It was fun."

Cedric didn't ask about the third task.

* * *

Fred and George had invited him over to a Defense Club in the Hogshead, and he thought it was a great idea. There was a good-sized crowd, and he sat himself comfortably next to Angelina Johnson. One of Harry's friends spoke and she talked about practical applications of defense, and Cedric felt a thrill of anticipation. This was the prefect way to get back at Umbridge. He was incensed when Harry shot the whole thing down before walking away.

"I'll do it," he said and the group cheered, and Cedric thought maybe it wasn't such a far-fetched idea that he was picked from the Goblet. But Umbridge found out and banned extra groups, and they were back to where they started. But as Cedric ate dinner, Harry approached him from the Sytherin table.

"I emptied out my trunk yesterday and I've been meaning to return this to you. Thanks for letting me borrow it," Harry said, handing him a small book. Cedric turned it over his hands to see it was a children's book, with a picture of a goose with a golden egg next to it.

"Hem, hem, is something the matter boys?" asked Umbridge. Cedric marveled that something so hideously pink had the ability to sneak up on him.

"No, Professor Umbridge. I was just dropping off something for Cedric before I was leaving. I have lots of homework, O.W.L. year, you know? And I need to take a bath and I need to be certain that I stay within the allotted time."

"Curfew takes place at nine, Potter, and it's only five," replied Walter Everett.

"That's what I said," Harry said, giving Walter a calm look before leaving. Umbridge waddled over, and removed the book from Cedric's hands, and opened to the inside cover, only to find a blank page. She flipped through the small book quickly, and Cedric felt his heart race, certain that she was looking for a secret message. When she didn't find one, she gave Cedric a strange look, and dropped it into a container of gravy, before marching over to the huddled forms of the Weasley twins.

He took his time eating dinner, and told his friends that he was going to the library. Harry had given him a message, using clues that only Cedric would have been able to understand, by calling back to the second task when Cedric gave him the hint to solving the golden egg. If it weren't for the fact that he never gave Harry the book, he wouldn't have suspected a thing.

Harry was already waiting for him by the prefect's bath, and jerked his head off to the side, and headed into the nearest empty classroom, holding an old piece of parchment.

"Over here, no need to draw attention to ourselves," Harry settled himself on a nearby desk. "I'm sure you noticed Educational Decree number Twenty-four." Cedric nodded jerkily. "I want to inform you that this is all your fault," Harry said grumpily.

"I… no, no it's not," Cedric sputtered.

"Yes, yes it is. If you hadn't gone and botched up the little plan, Blaise, Daphne and I cooked up, we would have been better off." Harry said as he gave him a cool look. At Cedric's perplexed look, Harry huffed in annoyance. "It was Hermione's idea to form the defense club, and she insisted that it I lead it so we could pass O.W.L.s. I didn't know that she was going to invite so many people. And I knew that it got out of hand when I saw everyone there. A real defense class seems directly against Umbridge's ideals, so I tried to make it seem like it was a stupid idea."

"Blaise and Daphne were watching people's reactions so we would know who was serious and who had a likelihood of selling us out. And then you had to go and volunteer yourself as an actual leader, and look what happened, we now have a brand new decree. Idiot." Cedric found his irritation rise, and was about to snap back, but Harry interrupted him. "I'm sorry, you couldn't have known. I'm just annoyed because it means it things more difficult for us. Now we have to be extra careful how we organize things, because she is going to be keeping an eye out for us. I've spent most of the day coming up with new plans."

"Plans? You have plans?" Cedric asked. He had spent the entire day fuming about the new decree, but he hadn't thought anything beyond it.

"For the Defense group, of course. The Decree defines a group, club, etc, as a regular gathering of three or more people. I've thought of up of all the ways we can get around it, and planned on how effectively use each one." Cedric looked at him warily.

"Don't give me that look, I've mapped them all out. Take a look." Harry pulled out a large piece of parchment and unrolled it on the desk. Harry pointed to one large section of the tree.

_The Slytherin Approach_

_There will be two groups, one will be false and one will be real. The real group must be approved by Umbridge (possibly involving the Ministry?) while the other group will provide a diversion._

_Pros: The ability for the defense group to meet frequently without suspicion_

_Cons: Extra work, and requires constants supervision of Umbridge_

_The Ravenclaw Approach_

_The group will be divided into different factions. It will be based on creating well-rounded studies, and placing extra emphasis on strengths. Example: Daphne's ability in Charms_

_Pros: A well-rounded group of students_

_Cons: Requires numerous study plans, and schedules, which require flexibility to focus on people's strengths._

"I like this option the best, it has the most effective results. On the other hand," Harry moved his finger across the page, "It has the highest amount of danger. Which will then lead us to this part of the plan." Harry said, lowering his finger to another part. Cedric peered over the page and found himself a bit in awe of Harry. It was clear that he had spent the better part of the day, trying to get everything down. Cedric thought he didn't even want to be a part of it.

"Yeah, so which action are we going to take?" he asked, raising his head to Harry. A thrill of excitement had jolted in his system, and he wanted to start immediately. Harry tossed him a dark smile, and Cedric believed that Harry felt the same way.

"All of them. The best way to cover up a big secret is with smaller one as a distraction. She'll think she's always one step ahead of us, but really she's just following along with the plan we already made." Harry explained as he pulled out a package of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one.

"When did you start smoking?" Cedric asked as he wrinkled his nose at the sharp smell.

"I don't know," Harry replied, his face rumpled in confusion. "I find myself wanting lots of things lately. I suppose this is one of them."

"Then why do you?"

"Because it's boringly normal, and I've gone mad." There was an odd look on Harry's face, Cedric dropped the subject and they continue to plan.

* * *

Cho was unhappy that Marietta was not invited to the meetings, and begged Cedric to allow her in the defense group.

"She's my best friend! I don't think I want to be a part of the group if she isn't there!" she cried.

Cedric sighed. "It's nothing against Marietta, but her mother work's for Umbridge, there is a conflict of interest. Harry says that…"

Cho laughed derisively. "Harry! Harry! There you go again! He's a fifth year Cedric, there is no reason you should listen to him as much as you do, especially since he isn't very popular right now. You know I don't believe in what _The Daily Prophet_ is saying, but I don't understand why you've started acting like he's in charge."

Cedric bit his tongue, too exhausted to argue with her anymore. The truth was that Harry was in charge. In less than a week, he had assembled a list of ideas, members, lesson plans, and meeting times for the next two months. The amount of organization was insane, as if Harry was accustomed to planning these things out. Cedric was in charge of working and talking with the people, but Harry was the one making everything possible.

Cedric broke down and added Marietta's name to the list. Harry wouldn't be pleased, but at least Cedric wouldn't have to hear Cho complain anymore.

Harry's plan, it appeared, worked a little too well, Umbridge was sticking her nose in Cedric's business all of the time, never realizing that she had already approved the actual defense group. The stress wore him down with NEWTs to study for and the Defense group to run. One week before Christmas break, he and Cho had a fight and broke up. She continued coming to the Defense meetings, and it led to some awkward situations. Cedric eventually asked Harry to watch for her in lessons.

"Fine, I'll do it. But that's only because you're doing a good job at leading the group. People are really enjoying themselves. Otherwise, I wouldn't involve myself in your girl problems," he said grumpily. Cedric just gave him a relieved smile.

* * *

It was March when the first part of the plan fell apart.

"Excellent, I love your Patronus Katie," Cedric called out.

"Thank's Cedric," she said with a flush, and Cedric bit his cheek from saying something idiotic. She really was quite pretty, he thought, but he didn't think he could handle another girlfriend right now. The Cho break-up was still awkward, even though three months had passed. Then a flash of light that caught everyone one's attention. Today it was Daphne's responsibility to watch the Sneakoscope, and she had raised the alarm. Everyone stood in silence, watching it whirl on the table, before grabbing their things and heading for the exit.

They scattered in the appropriate manner, some heading up to the Owlery, pretending to come down from a visit to their pets, or the library where they returned a book. A great deal of their success was the group was hidden in plain sight, and it would be that way until the very end. Harry was bent over a piece of parchment as Cedric walked over to him.

"Umbridge is coming out of her office on the left corridor. We need to go that way," Harry said, as Cedric summoned all of the bits of spare worksheets and vanished them. As they exited the room, Harry went over to the nearest suit of armor and withdrew a piece of parchment from inside of it and tossed it to Cedric. They walked down the hallway, coming into contact with Umbridge before they rounded the corner.

"Good evening, gentlemen. And where might you be going this afternoon?" Umbridge inquired.

"Meeting," Cedric replied.

"Really? I suppose you two gentlemen wouldn't mind if you accompanied me to the Headmaster's office?" Umbridge said, her smile wide.

Cedric could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he walked up the stairs to Dumbledore's office. He was surprised to see that the Headmaster was not the only one present, Minister Malfoy was in the room, along with a couple of Aurors, and a scribe.

"I caught these two walking down the hallway, in a suspicious manner. Diggory has been a troublemaker the entire year, and we all know how unstable Potter is. You'll be pleased to note Minister, that it was your son has been most helpful." The Minister gave a smile.

"Draco has a bright future if all goes well. I trust you two know why you are here?" The Minister asked.

"Are you searching for your pair of lacy, mistletoe undergarments and heard they might be here?" Harry asked before Cedric could say a word. One of the portraits that lined the walls gave a snort, and Cedric's mouth dropped open. The Minister's face turned pink.

"No," he responded tersely as he gave Harry a calculating look.

"Oh. Well in that case…." Harry drifted off with a shrug.

"I think, Minister, we might make progress if I fetch our informant," Umbridge said, and waddled out of the room. There was an uncomfortable silence, which was only broken when Harry started whistling. Cedric closed his eyes in embarrassment when he realized it was a Christmas song.

When the door opened, Marrieta Edgecombe walked in the room, holding her hands up to his face. When Marietta raised her head, Cedric caught a glimpse of the word "SNEAK," and stared at her. Harry, however, gave a loud gasp, and burst out in laughter, and she began to cry.

"Never mind the spots now…" Umbridge began.

"Spots? That's not spots, that's a disfigurement," Harry said loudly, "She is a sneaky, weepy, leak." He looked around the room, and noticed the looks of displeasure. "Oh, I'm sorry. You're trying to do something. I'll be quiet now."

"Miss Edgecombe informed me today that there would be a meeting of the Ministry Tradition and Law Study Group. Only this group would not be studying Law! What they are studying, I am uncertain, as the curse came into operation and Miss Edgecombe stopped talking. However, I am confident that this is the same group that met at the Hog's Head earlier this year," Umbridge said with pleased look. It promptly died when Dumbledore cleared his throat.

"I think you'll have an issue with that, Delores. If what you say is true, it appears that you approved of the group in question, and therefore no action can be taken on the students. And you do not have any evidence on what occurred during the meetings."

"Headmaster, I think that would be easy to determine, all we need to do is inquire which were the specific laws that were studied. I'm certain that Potter won't mind sharing, " stated the Minister smoothly.

"We covered a little of everything. The status of Goblin affairs, the technicalities of Muggle baiting, the use of illegal dark objects." Harry said coyly, giving an intense look to Umbridge as he said so. Cedric rubbed his thumb over the scars on the back of his hand.

"I believe that it would be appropriate to search their belongings for proof," Umbridge said her face turned a deep pink at Harry's insinuation.

"I will not tolerate the continued suspicion of my students, if you cannot find any proof, you will cease this investigation," demanded Dumbledore.

"Very well," Umbridge said grudgingly.

Cedric handed over his bag, his hands shaking as he did so. Harry's bag produced some textbooks, a bottlecap necklace, and a small mirror. She reached in Cedric's bag and unrolled the parchment from her hand and gave a loud crow of joy. Cedric looked down at the page and saw in tiny, feminine writing, _**Dumbledore's Army**_, and his name was at the top of the list.

Well, that would be easy for phase three.

The Gryffindor Approach

_If the group is discovered, the leader must volunteer to take the fall, so that the others can survive unpunished._

_Pros: It is planned out and anticipated. _

_Cons: The loss of a leader leads to low moral. The group unofficially disbands._

Cedric balked at the third phase of Harry's plan when it was introduced. But Harry pointed out if the first two parts of the plan were completely successful, it would never come to it. But if they were discovered, Umbridge would go for anyone she suspected. Cedric however, was already of age, so there was no risk of his wand being snapped if he was expelled. He was the official winner of the Tri-Wizard tournament, so he could find work for plenty other places without his NEWts. If Umbridge expelled Cedric, she would think that she had won the game. But as Harry explained it, her assumption would be a dramatic failure of foresight, because the possibility was already accounted for. In fact, Harry had recovered the list of names knowing that such blatant proof would deter her from seeking more

They had agreed to not give the group a name for the sake of secrecy, but it appeared that the others had not agreed.

"Well, the game is up," Dumbledore said simply, a gleam of amusement in his eye. "Would you like a written confession from me, Lucius, or will a statement before the witnesses suffice?" Cedric could only stare at Dumbledore, uncertain of what was going on.

"You admit to having ulterior motives beyond what has been regulated by the Ministry?" Malfoy asked in surprise.

"Certainly," Dumbledore replied cheerfully. "I recruited certain students who have gained my trust to stand with me. I see now that it was a mistake to invite Miss Edgecombe, of course." Harry shot Cedric a smug look.

"I suppose I have no choice but to escort you and Mr. Diggory back to the Ministry, where you will be formally charged. Mr. Potter, you have been expelled from Hogwarts, your wand please." the Minister said. Cedric stiffened as he looked at Harry in alarm. Their plan had gone to hell with two tiny words, _**Dumbledore's Army**_.

"I don't know what you are talking about," Harry said, his voice tense.

"Liar!" cried Umbrige.

"Your involvement in this ordeal means your expulsion, and since you are not of age, you are no longer allowed to have a wand," The Minister replied.

"I was never a part of a secret group that involved Cedric and Dumbledore. I was just walking down the hallway when I met you."

"Your name is on this list, Potter! There is proof of your participation!" Umbridge said, waving the list in her hand.

"That's what I'm talking about you stupid cow! I've never seen that list before in my life and my name is not on it!" Harry yelled, his temper finally getting the best of him. Umbridge turned puce as the statement sunk in, and looked unhappy as she realized _**Harry Potter **_was absent from the list. Cedric clenched his teeth in annoyance. His expulsion may have been planned; but Umbridge knowing the other's names while Harry feigned innocence was an unwelcome surprise. He should have known better.

"Very well, Potter. It appears we were mistaken. Dumbleldore, Diggory if you'll follow me," Malfoy responded.

"Ah, yes about that…" Dumbledore responded before pulling out his wand. Harry flung himself the to floor, disappearing under a great cloud of dust. Dumbledore rushed forward, grabbed Cedric's wrist and raised his hand as a large phoenix came forward. Cedric felt odd heat rust over him, and then he was no longer surrounded by dust, but instead, in a dark hallway.

"Cedric, as the appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts, I am pleased to tell you that you are not expelled, but regretfully must inform you that we are both fugitives from the law," Dumbledore said, as he flicked the lamps on.

"That's all right, I suppose. Sorry about involving you in this, I was planned on getting expelled. Where are we?" Cedric replied, looking at the old elf-heads.

"We are in the ancestral home of Sirius Black, Grimmauld Place, which serves as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. This will serve as your home until the charges against you can be cleared up. What I am more concerned about is your curious statement of your assumed expulsion, would you mind clearing this up for me?"

"Harry and I knew this might happen, and before we officially started meeting with the others, I agreed to be the scapegoat. The list with the names was planned set-up, but your name wasn't supposed to be on it as if you were in charge. And I don't know how Harry managed to avoid getting his name on it," Cedric said with a frown.

"Indeed?" said Dumbledore with a frown. "How curious. Please make yourself at home, Cedric. I'm uncertain when you will be allowed to leave." He waved his wand in the air, and Cedric saw his school things appear at his feet.

Cedric shrugged, and floated it up the stairs, as he wondered what would happen now. It was Harry's responsiblity to get the last part into action.

_The Hufflepuff Approach_

_The group remains united, not through a name or leader, but by a common belief. There will be a focus on independent study and practical application._

_Pros: It creates loyalty, which leads to enjoyment_

_Cons: Without official communication, moral may slip_

_Addendum: Secret communication?_

Part of Cedric wished he were stayed. The entire group would learn of his disappearance soon enough, and take to heart their new mission: Apply what they've learned.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**McGonagall**

Minerva McGonagall had taught at Hogwarts for over thirty years. She had endured a war, lost family, and dealt with troublemakers of all types. She had survived the arrival of the Marauders and a dragon pox outbreak. She was astonished by the wet noodle incident of '84 and was better prepared for the dry noodle incident of '85.

But as she sat at her desk, grading an essay by Harry Potter, she realized that Hogwarts could always surprise her.

When Umbridge announced her appointment as Headmistress of Howarts, Minerva was incensed, and knew she had to remain a steady figure of authority the students. Her Educational Decrees and constant supervision of classes already marred the year. She and Umbridge had several terse arguments in the staff room over her detentions, only to find her words dismissed by Dumbledore and Malfoy. Minerva knew that Dumbledore was more preoccupied by his affairs at the Ministry, plus his status as Headmaster discouraged Umbridge from causing any serious damage. When he left, Minerva believed Umbridge would push her boundaries further, and the students would be at risk. However, she was unprepared for The "P" Outbreak.

The letter "P" could stand for many things, and which is why the ordeal was given such a vague name. It could have stood for Peace, which was prevalent in all the entire school, as long as the new Headmistress was absent. Ever since Dumbledore had left, Minerva had not given a single student a detention. In fact, it was rare for her to take points away. Students were well-prepared in class, and focused in their studies. However, the area that surrounded Umbridge did not have that blessing, chaos of all forms reigned. Suits of armor were charmed to croak when she passed, and mealtimes were interrupted with people fainting and vomiting, many students blamed their frequent bouts of nausea on a new plague called "Umbridgitis." Minerva's face remained impassive the first time she heard the claim. She did not believe it, although she did not hesitate to send the person to the hospital wing as long as it was not during her class.

The letter "P" could have stood for portrait, whose inhabitants had begun exhibiting strange behavior. Many of them would stare at Umbridge as she passed, saying nothing in her presence. There was also Peeves, whose tendency for mischief had begun to focus on a specific target with new intensity. He frequently followed Umbridge around the school and threw things at her. At times, he would lure her to a specific moving staircase and trapped her there. At one point, it took Umbridge ten minutes to get from her office to the Great Hall. Minerva heard that he had taken to screaming in the middle of the night, in order to prevent her from a full nights sleep.

But mostly, the letter "P" stood for Potter. Minerva suspected he was deeply responsible for the new attitude in the air. Umbridge was too exhausted to notice the slight change, but thirty years of teaching had honed Minerva's skills in detecting student mischief. (She still remembers the exact smile on James Potter's face when he said, no he had not taken the animals she used in class and outfitted them with tiny brooms and Quidditch uniforms and released them in the Great Hall. This was an outrageous claim, he had cried, even as he was found with a pair Holyhead Hamsters in pocket. That smile's appearance on Harry's face this year was a pleasant surprise, although at times it seemed… wrong. Perhaps it was a bit crueler and bitterer than when James wore it.)

And while she had never caught him doing anything suspicious, the people surrounding him were not such precocious actors. Secret smiles, quiet laughs and discrete nods followed him around, ghosts huddled and spoke of him with respect, and Peeves had taken to calling him "Sir." It made her feel a bit proud, Harry Potter was not a Gryffindor, but somehow he managed to unite the school and bring up their spirits. Although, there seemed to be something else going on in his life, as recent essays revealed an alarming trend.

They were littered with nonsense.

Harry's essays were appalling when he first arrived, but by the end of the year they were acceptable. Minerva suspected a poor education was the cause for his poor scores as a first year. And he did go through a difficult phase after the Obliviation, but that was to be expected. But if it weren't for the clear divergences in subject matter, Minerva would have suspected that it was the stress of OWLs. An essay she had received before Christmas had raised concerns.

She shuffled through some papers and found it tucked in the bottom drawer. Her eyes scanned the paper, finally finding the odd paragraph.

_It is believed that Walter the Whiz, widely know for his On the Fifth Day of Christmas, my true friend gave to me, five Weasley Hats, four violet quills, three elf-heads, two chocolate frogs, and a giant with a fir tree. Talent in Transfiguration, was responsible for the cross-breeding._

It was perfectly acceptable sentence, if it weren't for the random bit of Christmas song in the middle. And every essay since then progressed slowly downhill, including the one she was currently grading. This essay was on the subject matter, but it was written in a circular fashion, wrapping around the page in a spiral. She told Sirius about it during the last Order meeting, and hoped that he would be able to get Harry to apply himself more on his homework, it appeared he was partially successful.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.

"Professor McGonagall, the new Headmistress is asking for you," Orla Quirke said as she poked her head in the doorway. "She said her things have Vanished again." Minerva closed her eyes, and sighed, she could feel a headache growing. The first day that Delores Umbridge announced her new position, her office was attacked. Every single item from her office had disappeared while she ate breakfast. Umbridge, shocked to find her possessions gone, had rushed in the room, only to trip and fall and break her nose on a leg chair. The perpetrators had not stolen her things, but merely made them temporarily invisible. Minerva strongly believed that Fred and George Weasley were responsible after finding an Invisibility Hat left behind the next day in her classroom.

Not that she said anything to the new Headmistress.

Minerva found the door to the Defense office ajar when she entered the room. She found Umbridge and Filius Flitwick standing in the classroom, he looked remarkably calm next the shaking woman beside him.

"My things are gone," the woman seethed. Minerva tried to muster a shred of sympathy, and failed admirably at the task.

"I believe," Minvera sniffed, unable to hide her disdain, "we adequately covered how to undo Invisibility Spells the last time this occurred." Umbridge's body shook oddly, her eyes bulging out their sockets from her anger.

"I've been robbed! The room is empty! There is nothing here!" she exclaimed. "I believe my things have been Vanished, I want my things back and I believe you are the expert in Transfiguration. This is all that is left!!" Umbridge cried as she waved a plate with a cat on it. Minerva was shocked, but the spittle from her frothing lips indicated that Umbridge was not lying.

"It is impossible to bring back items after than have been Vanished, as they dissipate in to nonbeing," Minerva replied. She shifted her foot, her step echoing in the empty Defense office. Umbridge let out a noise of disgust before stalking out of the room. Minerva waited until she was certain the woman would not return before she spoke.

"Any clues to who was responsible for this?" she asked Filius.

"No one could have done it. It was done when all of the students were in class, and all of them have been accounted for," Filius replied in hushed tones. "Delores was teaching the fifth-years while her office was robbed meters away from her."

"Oh, my," was all the Minerva could muster. The Weasley twins leaving the school in a rush of fireworks had been amusing, and a rather brilliant display of ingenuity and moral support. She thought perhaps if it was time for her to discourage this behavior. As much as she disliked the woman, robbing her belongings was a step too far. There was only so much a person could take before measures were taken. Umbridge was finally feeling the effects of the Educational Decrees, but how long would it be before she retaliated back?

Later that evening, as Minerva sat in her office drinking a cup of tea, she heard a commotion coming from down the hallway. She left her desk, and walked towards the sounds. When she arrived at the stairs, she overheard Umbridge's voice that carried from further down.

"Undoubtedly, the robbery was Dumbledore's doing, and for that, we will arrest one of his most loyal supporters, the giant."

Minerva gasped as she realized that Umbridge was going to go for Hagrid, and rushed down. By the time she was outside, she could see the faint light from spells. And as she cried for them to stop, the light came towards her, and she slipped into darkness.

A few hours later, she woke up in St. Mungo's, sore from the stunning spells that hit her, far away from Hogwarts. She was no longer there to help protect the student's from Umbridge.

A few days later, it wouldn't matter.


	38. Ch 35 Draco and Sirius

**Draco**

_**Dreams are weird and stupid and they scare me.**_

-Rose Walker in _The Doll's House

* * *

_

_It was good_, Draco thought, _to be powerful_. He brushed the sleeve of his robe against his badge, admiring his new status as a member of the Inquisitorial Squad. Ever since his first year at Hogwarts, he had been in a constant battle with Potter for respect. He attempted to make friends with him when they met because he thought they would make an excellent team. Potter turning him down was an insult he never thought possible, and ever since then he had tried his best to show that he was better. The Malfoy family was always better.

And yet, every time he thought that Potter would finally shut up and learn his place some thing would happen that something turned things around in his favor.

But this year was different, and Draco loved every second of it. He wasn't fond of Umbridge, but she had respect for tradition and she could see Potter for the nuisance he was. And it appeared that Potter had finally learned. The only gossip about him was the idiotic attempt to start his own secret defense group. Draco snorted, who hadn't heard of the "secret" defense group?

Meanwhile, Draco as a prefect, and the Seeker for an excellent Quidditch team, had the younger students were looking to him instead of Potter. One of the best moments of the year was when he overheard Weasley and Finnegan talking about Hagrid being half-giant. He always thought that it was a botched Engorgement Charm, but this was far more interesting. Draco went straight to Umbridge with the information. Nothing happened to the oaf, but he did gain Umbridge's approval.

Now Dumbledore was on the run, and he had a new badge with his new power. Draco longed to antagonize Potter, but it was hard. He went to bed early, his curtains charmed with an Imperturbable spell and he was up before anyone else. Looking across the greenhouse, Draco searched for Zabini and Boot. Perhaps he could go for different prey as bait. He would avoid Greengrass and Zabini though, his arm still stung from that incident at the Quidditch match.

"Did you hear the gossip?" asked Tracy Davis when they left Herbology. "It turns out Potter turned down a date with Chang."

"What?" asked Pansy, her head twisting to look at her friend.

"Oh, yes. According to Zabini, it happened in February. Why would he do that?"

"If you ask me," said Draco, "I think he's, you know, playing for the same _Quidditch Team_." There were a few guffaws at his statement as his friends wondered if it was true.

"Do you really think so, Draco?" Pansy's asked as her eyes widened dramatically.

"Oh, yes. _I_ think so, why else would he turn down the Seeker post? He was afraid that everyone would find out." Draco caught sight of Boot, and called out to him as he passed. "Tell me, what did you lot practice in those secret meetings? Was Potter trying to convert you to the other team?"

Boot looked at him confused. "Er, no. And it's none of you business. It's a private affair." Crabbe let out a howl of laughter at Boot's poor choice of words. Draco went down to the Slytherin Common Room in good spirits. Later on that night, he attempted to give a tug to Potter's curtains, frustrated once more that the spell was still in place.

Draco was warm, comfortable and half -asleep when he first felt something cold around his neck. He shifted in his bed to flick the sensation away, but the cold spread to other parts of his body. His eyes snapped open as he realized that he couldn't move his arms very much at all. His hands were tied to the bedposts, and there is something stuffed in his mouth. Alarmed, he attempted to call out for help, but it came out muffled and weak.

A dim light appeared, and Draco focused on it, astonished to find Potter at the foot of his bed. He looked wild and crazy in the soft wand light. His shirt was unbuttoned, and there was mud on his trousers, and he wore a large hat that couldn't be properly seen in the shadows. He blinked his eyes rapidly, uncertain if he was hallucinating or not. Draco squirmed intensely when he realized that the cool sensation was a snake close to his face.

"Draco, Draco, Draco, I've warned you so many times. Why don't you listen to me?" Potter asked in a soft murmur. Draco could not reply, nor was he interested. Potter was insane! Did he honestly think he would be able to get way with this? The comfortable warmth of his bed had intensified, turning hot and constrictive. Draco pulled at his wrists, hoping that the ropes were not tied properly, and gave a groan of frustration when they did not give.

"Pay attention to me!" Potter waved his wand eccentrically in the air, before he jabbed it into Draco's stomach. The wand turned into a haddock and it was tossed to a corner of the bed. Draco stopped moving, looking at him with wide eyes, and tried to ignore the snake sliding across his chest. "I told you to leave me alone. I told you to mind your own business, and what do you do? You ignore me, Draco. So, now, here I am. I have to get your attention somehow. Do I have your attention?" Draco tried to move his legs, and found that they too were strapped down. He twisted his head to the side in an attempt to wipe the beads of sweat that had collected on his forehead.

"**I asked you a question! **And stop trying to move. I have you tied down nice and tight… at my complete mercy. Your friends are so close, but no one can hear you scream. And there's a snake that can hurt you, all I have to do is hissssss.**"**

The snake began to move, and Draco stilled as it opened its mouth. He gave a whimper when he caught sight of the fangs. Potter let out another hiss, then lifted the snake and set it to the side. Draco closed his eyes in relief, only to be terrified once more when Potter reached for the buttons of his pajamas. He opened the buttons one by one, slowly exposing his stomach to the cool air. Draco desperately hoped the jests he made earlier that day were false. He squirmed in discomfort, the ropes rubbing his wrists rather painfully now.

Two of Potter's fingers walked across his stomach and up to his chest, goosebumps rose under his fingertips as gleaming eyes regarded him coolly. Then they stopped and a he pressed a hand against his chest and lowered his head. Potter was almost entirely on top of him right now, his ear pressed against his ribcage and his eyes closed.

Draco missed his personal space.

Then he felt a gentle touch against his thigh.

_Tap TAP Tap TAP Tap TAP Tap TAP Tap TAP Tap TAP Tap TAP_

"I can hear your heart beating." Potter said lazily, his voice in a murmur. "It's going very fast, I suppose that means you're scared, hmmm?" His hand came up, trailed up Draco's arm, and a finger continued to tap the rhythm of his heart on his wrist.

_Tap TAP Tap TAP Tap TAP _

'_Yes! Goddamn you, yes_,' Draco wanted to scream. But it came out as a muffled noise, incomprehensible and powerless. Potter sat up, and gave a broad smile.

"Good. Now maybe you'll learn your lesson. But just in case…" Potter trailed off, and reached behind his back and pulled out a knife. Then he leaned forward, and Draco's eyes widened when he felt the cool press of the blade against his face, and shivered at Potter's dark smile. Draco pulled at constraints harder, desperate now to get away, but he stilled as slight pressure was placed on the knife. A warm trickle of blood dripped down to his ear.

"Draco, I'm going to leave a little reminder, so you don't forget. You won't forget." He let out a strange noise that might have been laughter.

"Goodbye, Malfoy," he said with a wink.

And then Draco woke up.

He let out a cry as he flung open the curtains and tumbled onto the floor. He breathed heavily, and he looked around him. His other roommates were staring at him in silence. Theo was tying on his shoes, while the others were halfway in the process of putting on clothes. Draco removed himself from his bed sheets, searching for one specific bed. Potter's bed was neat and empty, as it was every morning.

"What are making such a racket about?" asked Theo in bemusement. Draco didn't know what to say, the persistent tap of fingers on his thigh and wrist still on his mind. He was certain that it was real. But then again, he just woke up. If it was real, he should inform someone that Potter threatened him. On the other hand, it could have been just a dream and if he said anything about it, they would laugh.

Draco ignored the others as he rushed to the bathroom, and headed straight for the mirror. He examined his reflection and noted that his face was perfect; there were not any cuts on his face and his wrists weren't bruised from where he had tugged against the restraints. But it had felt so real.

However, under the bright lights of the bathroom and the stares of his roommates, Draco could see the truth. It was clearly all a dream. He could just imagine what the others would say if he even mentioned that he had a dream with Potter in it.

As he walked out of the bathroom, he chortled at his stupidity. Of course it been a dream, Potter had been wearing that ridiculous lion hat.

He stayed far away from Potter during breakfast though.

The next week he and the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad were called over by Umbridge after dinner. She said that they were going to be doing a search for any suspicious activity. They scattered along various corridors and searched empty classrooms. Draco thought it was ridiculous, but after that time when those Weasleys activated a giant pile of fireworks, he supposed that her paranoia was understandable. He opened one room door, and found Potter and a Ravenclaw girl talking. Draco was about the call the others when he paused, the memory of that strange dream still made him uncomfortable. Theo took the situation out his hands when he signaled Umbridge over.

"Mr. Malfoy and Mr. Nott! You've made a wonderful discovery! You two," she said to Potter and the girl, "come with me." They went over to her office, and Draco kept his eyes on the floor to avoid eye contact. Eventually they reached Umbridge's office, and she stood behind her desk. Draco stood to Theo's left, who pointed his wand directly at Potter's back, the rest of the Inquisitorial Squad drifted nearby.

"I know that you have been responsible for the events that have occurred in the school ever since Dumbledore left. Still taking orders from him no doubt," Umbridge said with confidence as she began to interrogate them.

"We were only sharing some candy," said the girl in a misty voice. Potter reached into his pocket and pulled out a bag of Bertie Bott's Beans. Draco thought it was an odd thing to do in an empty classroom. He could think of plenty other more exciting things to do. On the other hand, he had known that there was something odd about Potter for a couple of years.

"Where is Dumbledore?" Umbridge asked as she narrowed her eyes in suspicion.

"No idea," replied Potter, while the blonde girl looked up at the ceiling.

"I don't believe you," she replied harshly. .

"I'm not lying. It's not my fault you don't believe me," Potter said with a shrug.

"I had planned on questioning you with Veriseterum, but Professor Snape does not have any on hand." Umbridge said in disappointment before pausing. She gave Potter a shrewd look then continued. "I think… yes it is necessary. Perhaps the Cruciatus curse will loosen your tongue." Umbridge pulled out her wand and much to Draco's surprise, Potter laughed.

"It won't work. I'll hold my secrets in me. You can hold it for as long as you can, and I still won't tell. And then you'll have to explain why I've gone mad. Yes, some think that I am now, but there is a large difference between having strange thoughts and having drool pour out of my mouth because I can't remember to swallow. I'm the 'Famous Harry Potter', who do you think they'll blame?" The nostrils of Umbridge's nose flare and then a smile flickers across her face.

"Very well then Potter, I suppose I'll have to adapt. Potter stilled, as Umbridge turned her wand away from him, and pointed it at the girl. "Crucio."

Draco's eyes widened as the dotty, blond girl writhed on the ground, her shrieks piercing the air. He wasn't expecting to see this…

"Stop." Potter's voice was soft, but Umbridge heard him, and she stopped the curse. However, Draco couldn't take his eyes off the girl, and was mesmerized by her small whimpers.

"I… I…it's no use is it?" Potter shook his head, and Draco turned back to him. He should be doing something, maybe holding Potter's wrists to make certain he doesn't escape. But, he noticed with some embarrassment, that his own hands were shaking. He looked to his classmates, and noticed that they look as uncomfortable has he was. But Potter spoke once more, and Draco envied his a calm voice.

"You'll just keep going on. You want to find Dumbledore, and you'll stop at nothing."

"So, you'll give me what I need?" Umbridge asked, her voice eager with anticipation.

Potter gave her a long look and turned his head. "I don't think there is any point in denying it anymore. I tried, I really did. We'll have to go off grounds of course."

"Excellent. Inquisitorial Squad, you are dismissed. Girl, you are to go back to your dormitory. Potter, come with me." Umbridge marched out the room, and Potter followed.

But at the doorway he turned, and looks directly into Draco's eyes before leaving the room. Draco is mystified, but Potter did not return during the night. He did not appear during breakfast either, and the seat between Zabini and Greengrass stayed empty and cold. However, during Defense class, Zabini raised his hand. Umbridge ignored it at first, but eventually called his name.

"Where's Harry?" Umbridge lips turned thin, and then she gave Zabini a simpering smile.

"Mr. Potter is learning the value of consorting with dangerous half-breeds and fighting against the Ministry. He is currently serving a detention in the Forbidden Forest. When he manages to return from the forest his detention will be over." He heard a few gasps, and Draco began to feel some morbid curiosity. What if Potter died last night and no one knew?

"Let that be a lesson for all of those who feel as if one can dismiss the rules of society at your leisure."

As soon as class is over, the hallways burst with noise.

"That will show him, thinking he's all important," said Theo with some vindictiveness.

"What do you think Draco?" Pansy asks. Draco swallowed, and then raised his head.

"I think Potter got exactly what he deserved. Father says that there have been some plans against him. Really it's no surprise when you're as well connected as I am." He heard Pansy give a small sigh; they were impressed.

The day continued, with Potter's disappearance dominating the gossip cycle. It irritated Draco that even though Potter isn't present, he's still the most important thing at the school. Somehow he did it again. Draco took out his frustration at a second year by hexing him as he went down the stairs. The portrait on the wall gave a cry of offense, but Draco just gave him a rude gesture and walked away. As he pulled on his pajamas that night, and glanced at Potter's bed, and shrugged. Maybe he'll get eaten by one of the giant's horrible monsters.

He woke up the next morning in a good mood and cheerfully went to breakfast. The owls came down, and Draco heard a loud gasps as the voices at the tables began to speak louder. Theo threw down his copy of The Daily Prophet so Draco could see the front page.

**Floo Failure! Hundreds across Great Britain end up in Muggle Homes.**

_Last night, while most of wizards and witches slept, the Floo system at the Ministry broke down. When many people attempted to take the Floo to work this morning they ended up in different locations, many them were Muggle homes. Ms. Olivia Edgecombe, responsible for the upkeep of the Floo, claims to have no knowledge of how this occurred._

"_Everything was fine when I left last night. Clearly someone tampered with the system " she commented. However, for some members this is not enough of an excuse._

"_This is a country-wide violation of the Statue of Secrecy! Do you know how many Memory Charms had to be done because of this mistake? Excuse me, there's another one coming in now," said Auror Tonks in response._

_(Continued on page 2) _

**Hogwarts Headmistress Found Dead! Horrible Accident to Blame**

_Dolores Umbridge, current Headmistress of Hogwarts, was found dead this morning. A Muggle bus driver collided with her outside of The Ministry of Magic. It is believed that the Hogwarts High Inquisitor was using the Floo earlier in the day and found herself stranded in a Muggle residence in Ipswich, and she then attempted to return to the Ministry to fix the problem by Apparating. However, Ms. Umbridge did not have an Apparition License, missing her original destination, landing in a busy street instead. The Muggle driver claimed "that she appeared out of nowhere," before getting voilently ill._

_(Continued on page 3)_

Draco stared at the paper in shock. Umbridge was dead, and a new teacher would be appointed. He was doing so well with her too. No doubt she would have made him Head Boy in two years. Throughout the morning, there was a lot of speculation on who would replace Umbridge. Many people asked Draco for his opinion, but he found himself at a loss. He really didn't know what to say.

When he attended his afternoon classes, a rumor began to circle that Potter had returned from the Forbidden Forest. By the time Draco went to dinner, he found Potter in his usual seat, although there were deep circles under his eyes. McGonagall had arrived as well, and stood up to make an announcement. Draco gave his best sneer to Potter as she spoke.

"I will be stepping in as temporary Headmistress, due to the unforeseen tragedy. The post for Defense teacher has been voluntarily filled by Auror Fawcette, some of the older students may remember him from four years back."

Potter did not look up as he tapped his fork against the cup next to him.

"Just because Umbridge is dead, it doesn't mean you've won," Draco said in a whisper across the table. The people around them began to rise from the table.

Potter raised his eyebrow. His fork twirled in his fingers as he shifted his arm, the prongs beating against the day's newspaper.

_Tap TAP _

The fork landed on a picture of Umbridge's face.

_Tap TAP_

"I think I have," he mouthed.

_Tap TAP_

Then he winked.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**Sirius**

**Lucius Malfoy Elected Mister of Magic**

_The death of Minister Fudge caused shock to ripple through the Magical World. Among the members was his close friend Lucius Malfoy, a generous donor to St. Mungo's and respected member of the Hogwart's Board of Governors._

"_Cornelius' death was a shock to all of us, and I for one was so moved by his absence I felt it was appropriate to continue his fine work" he revealed, shortly after assuming the post._

_Minister Malfoy arrived at a critical time. Albus Dumbledore, who many believe is the greatest wizard of our generation, has made the audacious claim that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has returned. This belief comes from the testimony of Harry Potter, who was involved earlier this month in an unfortunate accident that included the deaths of Walden McNair, Judas Warrington, and Igor Nott. _

_Harry Potter, the frequent victim of Dark Arts attacks, claimed to have witnessed the You-Know-Who's return. Many Healers believe that Mr. Potter is finally feeling the effects of a botched obliviation and attempts on his life. Albus Dumbledore has been accused of loosing his mind for his support of these delusions._

Sirius tossed the old newspaper on the table with a scowl and sank his head into his hands. Fudge had to go get himself murdered, and now the little advantage they had was erased with Malfoy's election. Now the Order had to be careful what was said and done lest they came off as lunatics. The Order of the Phoenix trailed Harry during his stay at Privet Drive in case of an emergency. Dumbledore's prediction came true on the evening when dementor's appeared. Sirius promptly Apparated Harry to Grimmauld Place afterwards, but not before a notice arrived that asked for him to appear before the Ministry. It was a large trial, set on grounds of underage magic, although some wanted to further the investigation of Harry's involvement at the graveyard in Little Hangleton. One of the saving graces was that few believed Harry had learned the Patronus Charm. But the thing that set Sirius' teeth on edge was that Malfoy quickly ended the trial, as if he were doing Harry a favor.

"It is clear that this is merely a misunderstanding," he said with an indulgent smile as he dismissed the case.

Returning to Grimmauld Place was an event Sirius never thought he would look forward to. There was a certain amount of irony in turning Grimmauld place into the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. He took perverse pleasure in filling the house with the exact sort of people that his mother had not (and according to her portrait, did not,) approved of. He met with Tonks, the daughter of his favorite cousin, and a few Aurors who had helped rescue Harry at the graveyard, and the Weasley family.

And so it was minimal disgruntlement that he stayed there over the summer in order to make it fit for human habitation. He was surprised to find Kreacher still alive, muttering comments of pureblood supremacy. Yes, it still grated him, but Kreacher seemed pathetic, and Sirius sent him away on day in irritation.

Harry. Now there was where Sirius' real interest lied. He had been terrified when Moody informed him of Harry's disappearance after the Third Task, and that was only strengthened when he saw him at St. Mungo's. His face looked haunted, and at times he would drift into nonsense answers.

It reminded him far too much of Azkaban.

And so he tried his best to poke and probe and irritate the hell out of Harry to fade away that look on his face. The mundane task of cleaning the rooms of Grimmauld Place revealed dark magic books of all kinds, and cursed objects, and a large infestation of doxies.

Among these discoveries was an old copy of _The Power of Dreams_ tucked under a broken table leg in his old bedroom. There were quite a few famous wizards who swore that the book had given them inspiration. Most of the old families had a copy of it in their home, hoping that their children would learn the lessons of the book and rise to power as well. As the oldest son, Sirius had been forced to study the book quite a bit, not that it annoyed him. The Endless were fascinating to him, and even odder was the idea that Muggles could talk to the Endless as well.

His favorite passage was on page eight.

"_For there are ways around everything, and the Lord of Stories can create them all._" He always liked that idea; even as a child he was a troublemaker. Truth be told, it was this passage that gave him the idea of turning into an Animagus, and James had agreed completely. That night, when he was getting ready for bed, his hand froze when he went to move the book from where he tossed it. The book had opened to a random page, which contained rough sketches of the family. He recognized one of them.

Despair of the Endless had haunted his mind everyday of Azkaban, her image reflected in a puddle in his cell. Shaken, Sirius stuffed the book in his bookcase, and went down stairs. The next day would be the last day of August, and he needed to have a proper talk with Harry on last time.

When the summer ended, Sirius moved back to his house in Hogsmeade, and focused on his mission for the Order, to make the newly elected Minister's life as difficult as possible. Sirius and Malfoy were in a silent struggle for popularity, and the wizarding world was slowly dividing itself. Malfoy was an elected official and had The Daily Prophet, but Sirius used his frequent invitations to dinners to fight back. He never spoke of Voldemort, Death Eaters, or Dumbledore. Instead, he had a nice dinner and offered to charm shaky windows Unbreakable, and discussed the finer merits of shield versus spells. It was tedious and dull work, and some days it felt like he was doing little to prevent the oncoming darkness. But Sirius learned the hard way the first time around that dueling and flashy spells were only part of what needed to be done. Something was better than nothing.

When he wasn't eating or talking, he worried about Harry.

He knew his godson was devious, much more than Dumbledore suspected, who was under the impression that Harry was well-meaning but average. The conversations with Fred and George did little to ease his concerns, and then Umbridge came for a visit in his home. That night he tore through Grimmauld Place looking for the two-way mirrors he and James used during detentions.

One October afternoon, Sirius went over to the Hog's Head to visit Aberforth Dumbledore. He had only met the man once before Azkaban. The impression he left was minimal, but now that he was living in Hogsmeade he was more likely to see him. As much as he loved the Three Broomsticks and Rosemerta (how he loved Rosmerta) sometimes it was too cheery for his taste. Instead, he would go to the The Hog's Head to have a drink and a proper brood.

At the last Order meeting, Mundungus Fletcher brought news about Hogwarts that Sirius wanted to investigate personally.

"Yes, I heard what those fool children were talking about in my pub. Right in broad daylight so everyone could hear. Seems that godson of yours is the only one with any brains, he tried to talk them out of it. Pity Diggory talked them back into it."

"Oh, replied Sirius, somewhat disappointed as he followed Abe up the stairs to a private area. "I thought Harry would have wanted to do it."

"Doesn't matter now, from what I heard, that sort of thing is banned by the Ministry."

"It is," replied Harry. Sirius spun around, and found his godson standing against the wall, half-hidden by the open door. "Hey, Sirius, guess where the seventh secret passage ends up?"

"It end's up in the Hog's Head! Where?" asked Sirius.

"The wall behind the portrait turns into a door. Speaking of," Harry turned to Abe. "Could you keep quiet about this? Secret passages are only good if they are, you know, secret. Never know when I'll need a new exit."

"My brother doesn't need to know everything that's going on," Abe replied in a gruff voice. "None of his business. I'm surprised you didn't upset Ariana."

Harry looked around the room with a puzzled look. "Oh, is that her name? Hello, Ariana!" he said, giving her a flirty wave. "She was a bit upset, but we had a small chat."

"She said something?" Abe asked sharply.

"Er… no, I had words and she had a smile, and we understood each other," Harry replied.

"Harry," said Sirius, "I'm not certain that starting a Defense group at this moment is a good idea. She's watching you closely, she even visited me in Hogsmeade after our Floo conversation.

"Oh, you heard about the group? I suppose you're here to tell me to leave the idea alone."

"No, I think it's a brilliant idea. I know I wouldn't have stood for it if I was in school. But she's an influential lawmaker Harry, she's responsible for a great deal of the werewolf bans that make life difficult for Remus. If you get caught, she will expel you as an example to keep everyone else in line."

"Is that so?" Harry frowned. "Thank you for the advice. I did plan for that outcome just in case, but I'll need to have a talk with others to stress the importance of keeping this a secret group."

Sirius reached into his pocket. "If you need to talk to me, call my name in this mirror. I have the other one so we can talk to each other."

Harry looked at Sirius with bemusement. "I wish you had given this to me earlier, it would have been useful. Although, I'm not terribly fond of mirrors."

"It's a perfect way to communicate with me, so I'm sure you'll get over it. Before, I thought you would have kept yourself out of trouble. Now I know you are only trying to avoid getting caught," Sirius replied.

Harry laughed as he went to the portrait. "If you only knew, Sirius. Nice meeting you, Abe, Ariana."

Harry was hardly the most talkative person, but somehow Sirius had earned his trust. He was surprised that Harry actually used the mirrors with some frequency. Sometimes it was rants about Umbridge or comments made by Blaise and Ron. Sirius had asked him to avoid talking about the Defense group, in fear of an interrogation by McGonagall (he had enough those when he was young). They weren't long talks, ten minutes at the most, but it happened around three times a week.

The frantic calling of his name mid-December set Sirius' teeth on edge. Harry never sounded so confused and anxious before. Fortunately, Sirius was able to call Dumbldore and rescue Arthur quickly before much blood was lost. The subsequent discussion with Harry did little to erase these fears.

"I think I'm losing my mind," Harry admitted later the next day. "I keep seeing strange things and then there are these feelings that aren't mine. And at the Ministry, when I was dreaming, I thought I was the snake that bit Mr. Weasley. I know I wasn't there, but I can still taste his blood in my mouth."

Sirius knew he had to speak to Dumbledore and get a proper explanation from him. This was enforced by Ginny Weasley's conversation. Sirius liked the Weasley family, although he thought Molly could be a bit overbearing. But he didn't know the children very well. He was alarmed by her concerns of Harry being possessed. When he pressed her to reveal why Harry confided in her, her response was shaky and defiant.

"He didn't tell me, I guessed."

"And how did you arrive to that conclusion?" Ginny did not respond to the question immediately.

"Everyone deserves to have secrets," she finally muttered, and walked out of the room.

Well, he couldn't really argue with that.

* * *

Dumbledore admitted that he believed Harry and Voldemort shared a mental connection, and that Harry would have to learn Occlumency.

"I believe that Severus will be able to teach Harry adequately. He is a master at the art, and I believe that Harry could learn much from him." Sirius argued vehemently over the idea. Harry liked his secrets and if Snape saw anything unpleasant, then there was no accounting for what Harry may do. Sirius knew from Azkaban what desperation could lead a man to do and he recognized the occasional gleam in his godson's eyes for what it meant.

A few weeks later, when Remus was over for dinner, Harry called from the mirror.

"Sirius, do you mind if I come over?" he asked.

"Is something wrong?" Sirius asked, Remus looking at the mirror in interest.

"I had Occlumency with Snape. It was…. I need to get out," his godson responded.

Harry came over that night, and the three of them shared stories about Hogwarts. By the time Harry left, he was in a better mood. So, Sirius was surprised when he called again the next night.

"Sirius, I had a dream that I don't understand. I was walking down a long, dark corridor with lots of doors. I know it's a vision from Voldemort. What does it mean?"

"It's Order business," Sirius said.

"If Voldemort is sending me visions about it, then it's my business too."

"Dumbledore says that it is best if you don't know. Keeping you in the dark is supposed to protect you."

"Dumbledore doesn't know I tried to kill you," Harry retorted.

His blunt statement caused Sirius to pause. Who should he side with? The greatest wizard alive or his godson? He sighed.

"When you were born, your father mentioned Voldemort was after you because of a prophecy. I don't know what it is says," Sirius hurriedly replied when he saw the gleam of interest in Harry's eye. "Since the summer, an Order member has stood guard to the entrance to the Department of Mysteries where the prophecies are held."

Harry's face lit up with understanding. "So that is why Mr. Weasley was that the Ministry, and the snake, and oh god! Bode!"

"Yes," said Sirius admitted, amazed that Harry had pieced together the facts. "If Voldemort is sending you visions of the prophecy, it means he wants to you pick it up for him."

"But, Malfoy is Minister. He could walk in and pick up himself without anyone knowing about it."

"Not quite. Malfoy became Minister under suspicious circumstances and Dark Activity has been rising slowly for a few years. People are suspicious, but they haven't panicked yet. Dumbledore believes that he is still weak from his years without a body, and that is why he hasn't made any major moves yet. Voldemort appearing at the Ministry means he has to surpass some of he safeguards in place, and if Malfoy or Voldemort do anything too suspicious, they will lose the advantage of being hidden. Besides, they aren't going to risk being publicly known when he can get you to snatch it for him, and make you vulnerable at the same time."

"Which I'm going to do," Harry replied.

"You're falling into the trap! You can't do that!" Sirius cried.

"Yeah, but he's going to think that I'll need a few more dreams about it before I make my move. And I'm not going to let it sit there in the Ministry where he can pick it up at any old time. So either you help me steal it, or I'll do it by myself. And you know I will," Harry replied.

"Fine. It's my turn to guard the door next Thursday. You meet me here, and I'll…"

"I'll meet you at the Ministry," Harry interrupted. All you need to do is let me in the door of the Department of Mysteries. I'll take care of the rest."

Next month, during an Order Meeting, he received a concerned statement from McGonagall.

"Harry's work has suffered a sharp decline. In the beginning I believed it was OWLs. but it's as if he is regressing back to his writing status as a first year."

"Er, is that a bad thing?" Sirius asked his former teacher. She handed him an old essay, half of which contained Christmas lyrics.

"You need to use your Occlumency skills!" Sirius cried half an hour later.

"NO," Harry replied stubbornly. "Not unless I have to."

"McGonagall showed me your homework, and it's trash. You won't pass OWLs this way." Harry's face flickered in surprise.

"Well, of course I'll put them on when I need to focus on something important. I'm not an idiot."

"You're certainly fooling me!"

"Occlumency does something to me, Sirius, and I don't think you'd like it very much. Trust me, I'm better off this way. Oh, and I wanted to tell you that Kreacher is dead."

"What?" Harry's abrupt change of the subject caught Sirius by surprise. He had forgotten all about the elf, and tried to remember when he last saw it. "How do you know that?"

"I spoke to a house-elf in the kitchens, the word spread to the house-elf community, or something," Harry replied with a shrug. "I didn't stay around long, they tend to get very emotional and I left before one of them could start crying on me."

"Thanks for telling me. I didn't remember about Kreacher," Sirius replied.

"He went to the Malfoy's. If he knew anything important about the Order it could have been an important breach of security, we're lucky that he didn't," said Harry.

Sirius said an hasty goodbye, not eager to hear a lecture of his own.

* * *

In March, Sirius arrived at an Order Meeting and found a new inhabitant. He recognized Cedric Diggory from the year before, and from many of Harry's conversations. Feeling sorry for him, Sirius moved back to Grimmauld Place to give him some company. Cedric spent a great deal of time reading some of the books, and when the Weasley twins arrived, the house was booming with explosions and laughter. It was a big change from the depressing place in the beginning of the summer. One day he walked into the kitchen and found an entire stack of decorative cat plates in the sink. Confused, he grabbed a glass of water, and went to find the others.

"I don't remember the Noble House of Black having kitty-ware," Sirius said to the three as he walked into a nearby room. The rest of his sentence died off as he looked at the sheer amount of junk that littered the once empty room.

"Sirius! My good, great, um… Inspirational Hero! Help us get rid of some of these things," said Fred as he set a pink armchair on fire.

"Yes, before McGonagall and Dumbledore arrive and realize we stole Umbridge blind," continued George.

"Not blind, I did leave her a plate," replied Cedric.

Sirius closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, and then reached for his wand. Harry was turning them all into him. Ah well, it was easier to go along with it. Sanity was overrated.

Sirius took a sip from his juice, and opened the page of the Daily Prophet. He introduced the juice to the paper.

**Hogwarts Headmistress Found Dead**

Later that evening, Harry called him, cheerful and in remarkably good spirits.

"Sirius, you wouldn't believe…."

"Did you do it?" Sirius asked, not interested in games of evasion. Harry did not respond immediately, and that was all the answer he needed. "Harry, you can't kill people because they make you unhappy. That's the sort of things Death Eaters do," he ranted. He felt like he had already lost his godson.

"I have morals!" Harry snapped back.

"Oh, yes. I'm sure she took away your Hogsmeade visits!"

"She hurt Luna," Harry said in a whisper.

"Who is that?"

"She's a fourth year Ravenclaw, her father prints the Quibbler. Umbridge used the Cruciatus Curse right in front of me because she was desperate to find Dumbledore."

Sirius throat closed up, and he swallowed awkwardly. He didn't know what to say. On one hand, he couldn't approve of killing, on the other; he would have done the same thing. "You have to be careful, if anyone finds out, they'll call you the next Dark Lord. You need to know your boundaries."

"I already have rules. The Four Lessons. I'm not going to become HIM," and then he vanished from the mirror.

Sirius stared at the mirror, regret still heavy in his heart. His mind was too full of dark thoughts to allow him a proper night's sleep. After his third time waking up, Sirius abandoned the idea, went to his bookcase and selected a random book. It was _The Power of Dreams_.

He read through the night.


	39. Ch 36 WANT

**Chapter Thirty-Six**

**WANT**

_-What do you want? _

**- **_**I know you missy…. T'aint safe to ask for favors of your kind, even if I EARNED 'em. Otherwise I could find myself spitting out flower petals or silver dollars every time I speak.**_

Delirium and a man in _The Kindly Ones

* * *

_

It was difficult to imagine all that had changed in the few short months since Voldemort's rebirth, Harry thought as he boarded the Hogwarts Express. On the surface the world seemed exactly the same, parents saying goodbye to their children and the laughter of friends meeting after a summer apart. But underneath was a layer of fear that was only noticed by the observant. Undercover Aurors were leaning nonchalantly against the wall, their eyes flickering around the crowd for any ominous signs. _The Daily Prophet_ was everywhere, tucked discreetly in satchels, folded under arms, and wrinkled copies lay abandoned on benches. Parents gave longer hugs than normal, and they were not pushed away by their children in pursuit of friends. It was the calm before the storm.

Harry encountered Draco in the hallway as he boarded the train, a dark symbol for the year to come. He was disappointed, but not surprised that Draco's arrogance had reached new heights with his father's new position as Minister of Magic and his own appointment as a Prefect. Every year they went through a power struggle, but Harry had little tolerance for it this year. Perhaps it was time to teach Draco that if he wasn't careful, he could find himself in some unpleasant situations.

Harry said a few words to Daphne and Blaise as he rode the Express, thinking of the plans he had made over the summer. At Grimmauld Place, he claimed Regulus' old bedroom, quite happy with the Slytherin décor. Most of the summer was occupied with making the house inhabitable, and it was during these adventures in cleaning that Harry discovered the hidden secret of Grimmauld Place; it was a treasure of history.

This house was old, and when Sirius' mother died, she left the home as a perfect representation of all the things that allowed Voldemort's rise to power. At Privet Drive, his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had succeeded so admirably in making their house dull, that even Harry was hard pressed to think of anything other than the weather. But at Grimmauld Place Harry found inspiration, it was a place where books upon books of dark magic sat untouched in a library. The Black Family tapestry hung upon the wall, and told the names of Purebloods related and intermarried or dead. The house-elf heads that lined the walls spoke of the arrogance of wizards, and their disdain of other creatures. And perhaps the most wondrous thing of all was the portrait of Phineas Nigellus.

Sirius called him one of the most disliked Headmasters of Hogwarts, but Harry thought otherwise. It was clear that Phineas had managed to get to the title because he was a political genius, not because he liked teaching. Harry took the portrait of Phineas to his room because it was clear that he was the only person who appreciated his brilliance. He was a perfect sounding board for Harry, quick to mock him when Harry made a suggestion that was too overconfident.

"Yes, because everyone wants to follow a fifteen-year-old into war," was Phineas' snide remark as Harry pondered his ability to unite the Wizards against Voldemort.

Then there was the matter of The Endless. He wanted to know why they were so involved in his life when no one else ever spoke of them. As far as Harry could tell, they were forces of the universe. So why were they so involved in his life? It made no sense; surely they had more important things to do, more people in the world than he. (_He could still remember the tear in his heart by Depair's hook, and the squeezing in his chest from Desire, and the laughter of Death in the graveyard._) There wasn't much he could do about it, but if the opportunity arrived where he could avoid their manipulations, he would take it.

Harry's sour mood increased as he caught sight of Umbridge. Her presence was quite possibly the highlight of his trial over the summer, as it called attention to the problem with the Ministry. He had heard the rumors that she would be teaching Defense class, but hearing her speak brought the momentous challenge he faced to the forefront.

In order to successfully defeat Voldemort, Harry needed to radically change the attitude of the Wizarding World without anyone realizing it. If he were a public figure like Dumbledore, then people's hope would hinge only on him, and make no effort on their own. He had a few vague scenarios drawn out from his stay at Grimmauld. All he needed now was for the problems to present themselves.

In his first class with Umbridge, something became very clear: she was an ineffective teacher. It was with great difficulty that he held his tongue, imagining various ways he could make her simpering voice stop with the book in his hands. Death by paper cut perhaps?

But his mind eventually wandered away from death scenarios, and began to echo the words of the Sorting Hat. The song had chanted in his head the whole night, and it would have driven him mad if he was sane to begin with.

"And we must unite inside her, or we'll crumble from within…" The song stopped abruptly in his head, and the solution came to him. Harry could use Umbridge to inspire the students to action, a practice run for the oncoming war in which few would be left unscathed. Harry could use her to create the very thing she was fighting against. Harry's realization filled him with purpose. By the time Blaise mentioned Cedric's detention, he was practically singing with joy.

So Harry let their anger bubble, the mumbles of their detentions spread, and the students' dissatisfaction rose. In the second week, she arrived at the fifth year's Friday meeting, and broke up the group for "organizing in an inappropriate manner." His classmates loudly protested, but Harry stayed silent, watching her pleasure and their indignation, before leaving. Cedric was coming down the stairs when Harry ran into him.

"Umbridge," Harry said in warning, and headed for the Astronomy Tower. He was somewhat surprised that Cedric followed him.

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about, she's has it out for you. I've had detention with her a couple of times and believe me when I tell you that she's a menace." Cedric withdrew his hand from his pocket, displaying some raw cuts on his hand. "I've had to write with a blood quill for two days just for defending you, I can't imagine what she would do if you said something. And I know she's been monitoring the mail as well, I overheard Filch. I wanted to tell you to be careful."

"I am careful, far more than you," Harry muttered, "I haven't had to carve up my hand yet. Although, I didn't know that she was monitoring the owls as well, thank you for the advice. But I should warn you not to make to many waves Cedric. You need to keep your head down, and be a good little Hufflepuff."

"I can't. I've already spoke my mind to her, and people need to know that there's someone looking out for them," Cedric insisted

"All right, fair enough. You've chosen the difficult road; I respect that. Just don't expect me to be up there with you, that is not my style. I prefer to stay in the shadows." Cedric looked at Harry skeptically.

"How is setting fire to the Quidditch Stadium, being in the shadows?"

"That," He said grandly, "was me angry."

"Stealing the ship?"

"It was fun."

Harry noticed Cedric didn't ask about the third task.

He detested Umbridge's classes, and spent a considerable amount of time staring at her as she worked on various assignments for the Ministry, while he couldn't do anything useful in her class. The list that he had made in Grimmauld Place wasn't going to get any shorter, and time was short. But time was long, and so were sighs, and god, he was angry. _Furious. How dare that little.._.

Why was he angry_?_

Harry let go of the quill he clenched tightly in his hand to rub at his forehead, and tried to eliminate the random thoughts from his mind. He needed to focus, there were things for him to do, and he needed to find a way to get around the fact that he was a student. He searched for new quill, in his unexpected anger, he had snapped it in half.

"I wish I didn't have to be here. Or at least have someone fill in for me," Blaise muttered after another dull class. Harry's hand twitched at the suggestion, it was a very appealing idea. The only problem was finding someone who he could trust willing to sit in for him.

The next week, the solution came in the form of the Weasley twins, when George mentioned their money problems. Harry sensed an opportunity and explained his plan to Fred

"I have a lot of things to do, but not too much time to do them. I have O., and you are quite familiar how much time they suck out of a normal person's life. Defense class seems to be a gigantic waste of my time so I would very much appreciate it if I didn't have to attend classes anymore. And that is where you come in." Fred leaned forward in interest. "You attend class as me by drinking some Polyjuice potion, and I pay you for your time and efforts." Fred looked shocked and wary, but Harry could see the interest in his eyes, and knew it was a done deal.

"Blaise and I have already ordered the ingredients, but it hasn't been brewed yet. Umbridge doesn't teach anything, and she doesn't ask questions, so there's very little chance of getting caught. You do this for me, and I'll give you one thousand galleons, the same amount you would have won in the Tri-Wizard Tournament without the pesky dragons and imminent death."

"That is all you want from us? One of us to sit in a class and pretend to be you?" Fred asked in astonishment.

"Yes. I need more time, and you two can give it to me. Not to mention there aren't that many people that I can trust to help me with this situation. The potion takes a month to brew, so we have plenty of time to iron out the finer details. And you'll have to talk to George too."

Fred's face broke out in a large grin. "I'm sure he'll agree to it, I would even do it a couple of times for the challenge anyway. Pleasure speaking to you Harry," Fred said, giving Harry an enthusiastic handshake before departing for his Quidditch meeting. Pleased with the outcome, Harry headed to McGonagall's empty office to use the Floo.

"Sirius, can I talk to you for a moment? I don't have much time," Harry said, his head in the fireplace. There was the thumping of footsteps, and Sirius appeared, eating an apple

"Yes, Harry?"

"Do you know that package that arrived a few weeks ago? I've made a deal with Fred and George and the contents belong to them." Sirius raised his eyebrow, and pulled a chair forward and settled himself comfortably. Harry hastily deterred his interest. "I can't give you too many details, I'm sure you'll be getting some questions so it would probably be best if you stayed in the dark. I also need you to withdraw some money from Gringotts, I think three hundred galleons should be enough for now." The apple from Sirius' hand fell onto the floor, but he paid no attention to as he kneeled closer to Harry.

"Harry, I hope you aren't doing anything illegal, Umbridge is already watching you closely."

"That's a bit rich coming from you, _Padfoot_," Harry said with a laugh. "Anyway, it's nothing too bad, I'm just helping them with their joke shop, and I think it will help raise the school's moral. People are getting depressed and it's only the beginning of the year."

"Oh, is that all? I wouldn't be surprised if I found them at the Three Broomsticks tonight to celebrate."

"Yes, I think…" Harry tensed, hearing a suspicious noise, and withdrew his head from the fireplace to look around, finding no one. He checked the map, but there wasn't anyone nearby either. Then Harry saw a hand, emerge out from the fireplace, gleaming with fat rings. He ran out of McGonagall's room, threw on his Invisibility Cloak, and shut the room behind him. Umbridge must have been monitoring the fireplaces for suspicious activity like she did with the owls. And as he ran down to the Great Hall, Harry saw Umbridge emerge from her office and he slid behind a suit of armor, glaring at her as she toddled off to McGonagall's office. It was best if he was seen far away from McGongall's office. _Professor Sprout_, Harry thought, as he silently strode down the hallway, _could use a visit_.

* * *

Harry was delighted when Hermione suggested a study group, his stray thoughts becoming an organized plan. Maybe the plans had crawled out of his head, and and were floating around Hogwarts, searching for minds to settle in. Harry cheerfully informed her that he would be more than happy to show her some tricks to being successful in Defense. She beamed at him, and informed him to meet her at the Hog's Head over the weekend. Perhaps he should feel guilty for using her to advance his plan, but Harry wasn't above playing dirty to win.

That day, he made a quick stop to Honeyduke's before going to the old pub. Blaise and Daphne were waiting outside for him, their faces nervous and wary.

"There's a problem," Blaise said. "There are too many people in there, and most of them are gossips."

"Like you?" Harry asked, causing Daphne to laugh.

"No," he replied with a scowl. "Like, 'give Umbrige an excuse to follow your every move problem.' This meeting won't be kept quiet, it's best not to go in."

"But I have to, I promised Hermione," Harry said with a frown. Daphne cleared her throat and gave them both a smile

"Or, you could be your usual, irritating self and scare everyone away. I'll watch their reactions and see who is serious, and who isn't. The ones who are serious will stay, and curious won't." Grateful for Daphne's suggestion, Harry entered the pub, and realized what a mistake it was for Hermione to organize the whole thing. She was clever, but astonishingly short sighted on how aggravated Umbridge would be. He sat in the seat next to Su, and rattled the contents of his Honeyduke's bag. He wondered what flavors there would be today, perhaps raspberry, and curry, and toad. Toads… there was something he didn't like about toads. Umbridge! He didn't like Umbridge, and he needed to talk now.

People looked at him eagerly, but they looked unsatisfied when he brushed the defense group like Daphne suggested. And when he left the Hog's Head, he felt a smug sense of accomplishment. Outside he found Delirium, and Harry handed her the bag of Bertie Bott's Beans. They walked together to Hogwarts' and that night he shared the candy with her in the Room of Requirement.

"Green Mouse Ice Cream," she grumbled with a face of disgust as Harry tried a yellow bean.

"Rubber duck," he said. Perhaps it his imagination, or perhaps it was because Delirium was so near, but Harry thought he heard the bean squeak as he chewed it.

* * *

His good mood was ruined when he found Educational Decree Number Twenty-four as he departed for his early morning run. Someone informed the High Inquisitor rather quickly, but at least Harry had Daphne and Blaise watching out for him. He knew he had to apologize to Hermione, and went up to Gryffindor Tower when he was finished. She emerged from the portrait as he arrived. Perfect timing.

Her admission of Cedric's announcement was an unexpected, but welcome surprise. Harry would rather have Umbridge's focus on someone else. During History of Magic, he outlined ways around the decree, and how he could use Cedric's willingness to his advantage. By the end of the day, Harry came up with the plan, and met up with his new partner. He expected Cedric to balk at the planned expulsion, and his hesitation was no surprise. But Harry noticed the resolve on Cedric's face, a look that was not there the year prior. Harry kept his face passive, but he wanted to throw up his hands and cheer.

He has found an ally.

"When did you start smoking?" Cedric asked; his face rumpled into a look of confusion. Harry blinked, and noticed with some astonishment, the lit cigarette between his fingers.

"I don't know," he replied honestly. Mundungus Fletcher's visits to Grimmauld Place over the summer had provided Harry with some decent conversation; his illicit habits a delightful contrast to the motherly qualities of Mrs. Weasley. A side effect of a conversation with Mundungus was his lit pipe, and the smell of cheap tobacco that clung stubbornly to Harry's clothes. They had not given him a particularly strong urge to start smoking, but it was only when Cedric asked the question that Harry recalled taking a package of cigarettes from someone at the Hog's Head.

"I find myself wanting lots of things lately. I suppose this is one of them." His heart gave a flutter at the admission.

"Then why do you?" Cedric asked.

"Because it's boringly normal, and I've gone mad," he replied with a chuckle. It was a vague truth, enough to deter any more questions, so Harry can panic in silence. Later, he recalled smoking a cigarette after his morning run and coughing the smoke out of his lungs. He was aware of the urge to light another cigarette and shoved the thought to the back of his mind.

Desire was playing games with him once more.

In preparation for the defense group, Harry went to the Room of Requirement to determine the atmosphere. But his plans were derailed by his subconscious, which had decided it would be a lovely day to go exploring secret passages. It provided the mysterious door that Sirius had shown him before the Third task, the seventh passage out of the school.

Tomorrow would be the first meeting of the defense club, and he would be responsible for keeping track of schedules, spells, and ensuring that Umbridge would stay away. Tomorrow the manipulation, large plans, and secrets would begin. But today he had a bit of time for himself, and he wanted to go exploring, so he went down the tunnel. When he arrived at the end, Harry slipped on his Invisibility Cloak and pushed open the door. He stepped in a room, where there were a few windows, and a large table. Harry looked out of the windows to see the neighboring buildings and realized that he was at the Hog's Head. He glanced at his surroundings, and his eye caught sight of the portrait from where he emerged.

It was a picture of a girl, whose face was crumpled in confusion and distrust. Harry hastily whipped off his Cloak, feeling a bit guilty that she was alarmed.

"Sorry about that, I didn't know I was going to end up here. I'm just looking around, and I'll be leaving soon," he said to dissuade her potential screams. "I'm Harry." The girl in the portrait gave a timid wave. "What's your name?"

The girl did not reply, only offering a small smile and a nod towards the door. Harry heard footsteps and a gruff voice that got louder as it approached.

"…pity Diggory talked them right back in."

Harry heard Sirius reply and waited for the two men to come up the stairs. And then Sirius gave Harry a mirror.

He did not like mirrors. He wanted to throw it away. But it was convenient, so he kept it. He used it. And he longed for the day when he wouldn't need it.

Blaise had announced that the Polyjuice Potion was finished in late October. Harry was near during the first lesson that George posed as him, his hands sweaty in anticipation. George was caught in a suspicious discussion with Terry after class, and it landed him in his first detention. Harry was deeply annoyed, but the twins promised to return a hundred galleons the next time it occurred. That night, he carved words into his hand, watching the blood trickle down his hand.

_I must not tell lies._

Harry believed in the beauty of truth and ideas. Even though he deceived people through misunderstandings and facades, a straightforward lie left a bitter taste in his mouth. There was a deep injustice in this detention and he wanted to hurt Umbridge so much. But she had a purpose, and it would be wasteful to destroy the wonderful opportunity that she gave to him.

So he sat the detention in silence.

"Madam Umbridge," said a voice from the Floo. Umbridge rose from her seat and turned to the fireplace when she noticed that Harry had not stopped writing.

"Do you want us to continue to monitor all the fireplaces at Hogwarts? The holidays will be coming soon, and I'll have to be mindful of everyone's vacation time when I plan the schedule," said the woman.

"Yes," said Umbridge. "I do not like the idea of the children misusing the Floo."

"But surely the teacher's fireplaces do not need this restriction," rationalized the woman.

"Then the students would risk entering a teacher's office in order to use it. No. I think it would be best if all the fireplaces were monitored. Except for mine of course, I travel so often by Floo that it would be ridiculous."

"Very well," said the woman with a sigh. "Goodnight, Madam Umbridge."

Harry continued to scratch the words onto the parchment, his heart thumping rapidly at his good luck. He really should forgive George.

"Professor," he said innocently. "People are misusing the Floo?"

Umbridge's face turned hard at his question. "It is a precautionary measure. I suspect some students are gathering illegally in Hogsmeade outside of class. Supervising the Floo ensures that this will no longer happen." Her eyes narrowed as she scrutinized Harry's reaction

"But they could use your fireplace," Harry argued as he looked up to meet her eyes. Her next sentence would tell Harry all that he needed to know about her.

"Don't be silly boy. No one would be foolish enough to do such a thing. And I keep my door locked to prevent anyone entering when I am not around," she said confidently.

"Oh. Can I leave yet?" he inquired.

Umbridge looked at the clock. "Have you learned your lesson or will more detentions be necessary Mr. Potter?'

"I will not tell lies, Professor Umbridge," said Harry obediently. "I will only blackmail."

"I beg your pardon?" asked Umbridge in shock.

"I will be keeping this," Harry said as he held up black quill. "We've been studying dark objects our Ministry Law Club, and while this is not strictly illegal, I know it would be frowned upon in a school. I'm sure plenty of students will tell their parents about these detentions over Christmas break, and many of them won't believe it because you are a respected Ministry official. Even if the Ministry is pressuring The Daily Prophet, they won't say no to an exclusive interview from me. They are a business, and an interview by me will sell like wildfire. And I'll tell them precisely of what sort of teacher you have been." Harry waved around the bloody parchment of lines. "_And I won't lie_."

"And while they might argue that I've gone off the deep end, and that I've purchased a dark object and mutilated myself on purpose, the idea will be planted in people's heads. The parents will realize their children aren't being dramatic, and people will go to Knockturn Alley to investigate. How long do you think it will take for you to fall? It took Lockhart less than a week to end up in Azkaban." Umbridge turned pale at the mention of the prison.

"But," said Harry with a smile, "I won't say a word if it stops and that means you give normal detentions with normal quills. If you need advice on those things, I suggest asking Professor McGonagall, she has been teaching here for ages." Then Harry left her office.

On the way back to Slytherin he laughed. Umbridge was probably so shocked by his threat that she had probably forgotten all about his inquiries into the Floo. And the idiotic woman was so arrogant she forgot one more thing.

Her office had a window.

* * *

He stayed behind with Ron and Seamus after their first Care of Magical Creatures class when Hagrid returns. While he preferred Grubbly-Plank as a teacher, Hagrid scored some extra points for Harry by teaching the class of thestrals. He assumed that everyone could see them, and their invisible powers were wondrous. However, Hagrid had stupidly asked Harry who he had seen die. Harry responded with a stony silence, although a large part of him wanted to bring up Professor Quirrell.

"What were you doing Hagrid?" asked Ron.

"Just doing a favor for Dumbledore, some important things that he wanted me to do," he replied.

"I think you were searching for some treasure in the mountains and found some booty," joked Seamus.

"Meeting with your lover in a secret tryst in a foreign country?" said Harry, taking a perverted view of Seamus guess.

"Nah, he had to have been searching for his long lost brother," said Ron. The tea kettle dropped from Hagrid's hand and clattered to the floor.

"Now how do you boys know that?" Hagrid exclaimed. There was an awkward silence as the three looked at each other, uncertain of which was right.

"So where is your brother?" Harry asked, picking the least repulsive idea of the three.

"Er, he's staying somewhere close by."

"What? You have him stashed in the forest or something?" asked Seamus.

"Shh! Not so loud!" said Hagrid.

Harry thought it was odd that Dumbledore trusted someone so transparent. He thought it was even odder that they kept guessing the correct thing. It also felt too convenient for Harry, as if someone was trying to get him to learn some information. He thought of Desire's involvement that led to Cedric's unexpected discovery of the dragons the previous year.

Uncomfortable, he left shortly afterwards, passing Draco on his way to the dormitory. Later that night, Harry heard him tell everyone in the Common Room that Hagrid was half-giant. It was not a terribly astonishing revelation, and Harry was more interested in observing Draco's attitude of superiority. There was no mention of Hagrid's half-brother, and Harry stayed silent. He liked his secrets, and while he was not fond of Hagrid, he would not share who was hidden in the forest.

But Draco managed to aggravate Harry again during the Quidditch match.

His parents were dead, gone and harmless. Draco had no right to bring up his mother, not when she died for him. Harry nearly killed him on the spot. Umbridge couldn't have done anything, and Dumbledore wouldn't have been able to stop him before Harry twisted Draco's neck. The only thing that stopped him was the slight jerk of Snape's shoulder. Harry was so surprised by Snape's unexpected reaction he forgot to move, and by then Draco was far away with a broken arm.

Time was running short.

* * *

He was correct about his assumption about Umbridge and during his Defense class he slipped into her office through the window, and set a simple Imperturbable Charm on her door as a precaution. Then he used her Floo to visit the Ministry of Magic.

He went there without any intentions; he simply wanted to know the structure of the organization. Who were the Aurors? The politicians? Who thought he was insane, and who thought that there might be something to his words? Harry knew the value of patience and preparation, and he would not waste the opportunity. After all, while the defense group was useful, it was a practice run, an experiment. The adults who made the laws and rules would have to make the real effort. So Harry watched, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak and a silencing spell, observing the departments and learning the gossip.

Harry was there when Bode was taken away from the Ministry, his head scrambled from powerful magic. Bright orange lights flashed in his eyes, (_orange was for insanity_) and it left Harry reeling in confusion. He caught a glimpse of Delirium's back as she went with Bode. The pain nearly caused Harry to be late, and he barely made it back to Hogwarts before class was finished.

Harry emptied his pockets and found Pansy's purple quill. It is not the first time he has found strange objects in his pockets, that he only remembered stealing later. He holds out his hands, and spoke firmly to his fingers.

"Stop it. Stop taking things, especially when I'm not paying attention."

"_Talking to your fingers is a sign of insanity, did you know that?"_ His eyes widened, a movement at the corner of his eye caught his attention, noticing the ornamental snake removing itself from its normal position on his bedpost.

"You're talking to me. My bed is talking to me." He was losing his mind.

"_Wrong item, dearie_." Harry lifts his head from his hands, and realized it was the enchanted mirror he received for Christmas his third year. Blaise was fond of mirrors, and had claimed it for himself when he discovered it in Harry's belongings. The snake on the bed had not moved, it was only a figment of his imagination. He laughed, not even stopping when Draco and the others came in.

* * *

Malfoy was irritating him. (It didn't matter who it was, as time passed they were turning into the same person.)

* * *

When George asked Harry to mail a present to Percy by way of Sirius, Harry plopped it on his desk at the Ministry.

It ended up being one of the greatest ideas he ever had.

Christmas was approaching, so Harry decided it would be a fine idea to loiter around the Minister's office. Department Heads dropped off various reports, attempting to finish the bulk of the work before the holidays, but nothing remarkable happened. Then Percy appeared, with a slight bounce in his step. Perplexed, Harry focused on him as he passed, and noticed the twins' fake wands in his pocket. Three minutes later, Percy emerged, looking extremely pleased with himself. One minute later, there was a crash from Malfoy's office.

"WEASLEY!" Malfoy burst out of his office, his face enraged. "Weasley, you've cost me my servant!" Harry frowned at Malfoy's statement; he was uncertain why the fake wands caused so much anger. The staff around his office all paused, staring the Minister, until their attention shifted as a tiny form emerged out of the office.

"Master has given Dobby clothing, Dobby is free," said the house-elf, holding aloft the article of clothing like the Holy Grail.

Harry stared, observing the ridiculous image before him, and took a moment to appreciate the sheer brilliance of Fred and George. Then he burst out in silent laughter.

"NO!" cried Malfoy. "Stay Dobby, that was an unintentional! WEASLEY!"

"Dobby does not listen to old master. Dobby has no master!" The house-elf yanked the pair of racy feminine undergarments on his head like a hat, his ears poking out of the two pre-existing holes. As Dobby scurried away from Malfoy, he gave Harry an excellent view of the strategically placed sprig of mistletoe on the crotch.

As Harry Flooed back to Hogwarts, he reminded himself to bring up the image the next time he saw Malfoy.

He slips and slides as a snake, sinking his fangs into the supple flesh of the hidden enemy.

He tastes the blood and smells the fear.

He wakes up and screams.

_(no one hears)_

It is an awkward conversation at Grimmauld, and Sirius' promise to investigate the matter brings him a little comfort. Harry picks up a book in the library, hoping to distract himself, and he stares at it blankly. But the unexpected conversation with Ginny puts his mind at ease. As confusing as everything is with his odd emotions and his wandering mind, he remembers everything.

He really hates memory loss.

Even more than mirrors.

They visit St. Mungo's on Christmas Day, and Harry uses Percy's arrival to visit Bode. It was such a curious thing that such a clever person made such an atrocious mistake, and while he's not the sentimental type, it is Christmas. Later he meets up with Ron and Ginny. Harry picks up the plant at his desk, and wonders how a man who thinks he's a teapot will remember to take care of the gift.

He hears the healer speak, and turns his head to see the Longbottoms. He speaks politely, but is somewhat distracted by a pair of feet sticking out from the other side of the curtain.

"What is it, Alice dear?" Mrs. Longbottom asks, only to huff as the woman emerges with a candy wrapper for Neville. Alice Longbottom hands the wrapper to her son, mutely showing her love with a piece of trash. The feet belong to Delirium, who is coming out from behind the curtain, and when she catches sight of Harry, she blows him a kiss. He can imagine the kiss, a bright, pink pair of lips that floats lazily in the air, traveling in a series of zig-zags, before it lands on the corner of his eye.

Then Harry is viewing the world through Del's eyes, and he stumbles with the knowledge.

_The damp and the dark, whispers the potted plant._

Harry flees the room as Neville slips the wrapper in his pocket.

_Augusta Longbottom, viewing the parents through memories of the past. She is proud of what fine people they were, but has long accepted that they are not a part of society any more, trapped in their own minds._

He staggers down the stairs.

_Then there is Neville, who is embarrassed by the revelations of his parents, but still pockets the wrapper. Its one of three things he has been given by his parents. One is his life, then there are the candy wrappers, and third are the memories of their screaming voices when a dementor approaches._

He stops at the first floor and travels down a hallway.

_The Weasleys, who are horrified by the history of someone so close to them. Harry may have been attacked before, but he came back. Their father was rescued quickly before there was a real threat of death. They are seeing the effects of Dark Magic for the first time._

He opens random doorways down the hall, searching for someplace dark.

_Alice and Frank Longbottom slipped into insanity because the torture was too much; and they will stay safe in Delirium's realm until the pain stops. They enjoy the joyful tunes from a dancing teapot and never realize that the danger is gone, because time has little meaning in a place where even the sundial is broken._

The eighth door is a broom closet, and he enters, shutting the door behind him. Even in the dark, the colors and sounds of Delirium's realm find him, and cause his head to ache. He sees and understands all of their perspectives all at once, and a whimper escapes from his throat.

_Fear, embarrassment, pride, joy, sorrow, acceptance, freedom… there are so many ways to see the same thing._

_And they are all__** RIGHT.**_

A mop is leaning against the wall, and Harry presses his mouth against the material and screams, the overwhelming emotions pouring out of him. There is an unfamiliar bitter taste on his lips from the damp mop head. It brings him closer to reality, the physical sensation pulling him from the outpouring of unfamiliar emotions. When his breath has left him, Harry sits on an upturned bucket, clutching the mop in an awkward embrace, still shaky. What was wrong with him?

He threads his fingers in the damp material, relishing in the mop presence, and finding his place in the world once more. It is getting difficult for him to hold on to reality. He needs to find a solution. He finds Sirius in the lobby of St. Mungo's and sits next to him. The throbbing in is head is slowing, and he counts the tiles on the floor as he waits for the others to arrive.

That night, he lays in bed in the dark. The colors are gone, the songs are silent, but Harry can almost feel his skin crawling from a thousand ladybugs.

Today was a reminder.

No matter how much he likes Delirium, she is dangerous like all of the Endless. Behind her sweet, broken smile and mismatched eyes hid a wealth of pain. Despair tears at your soul until there was nothing left, Desire's pain is sharp like a knife, but Delirium could make you _like_ it. And even though he knows The Endless better than most people, they are forces of the universe, and they could destroy him in an instant.

Harry wants to be free from them.


	40. Ch 37 TAKE

**Chapter Thirty-Seven**

**TAKE**

**

* * *

  
**

_**I don't need to know the future. When the future is over, then it's me.**_

Death in _Fables and Reflections_

_

* * *

  
_

**His life is a series of sensations because he can't trust what he sees. He can't trust how he feels. And when his mind wanders, and flies to the moon on a golden Firebolt, he has to come back down somehow. The whiff of dinner travels from his nose to his brain and reminds him that he's hungry and he should finish the soup in his bowl. The clothes rustle on his skin, and remind him that he is awake and is in class.**

**Through the laughter of his friends, the smell of Daphne's perfume and the texture of parchment, Harry remembers that his is alive.**

**

* * *

  
**

**At a defense meeting…**

"You are doing it wrong," he says as he walks over.

"Oh, I'm not sure…" she says.

"You have to hold your wand right for it to work," he explains, damning Cedric in his mind. If only he never broken up with her.

"Am I doing it wrong? I bet you know how to use your wand properly," she says with a nervous laugh. Her hand brushes over his wrist.

"Of course," Harry replies, "I've been doing it for years." Cho giggles strangely, and Harry walks away to talk to Luna. He needs to find someone sane.

* * *

**Harry** watches them fall

They fall by the thousands, each puffy white flake drifting down from a cloud and joining the others on the ground. Each flake is unique, the pattern of the ice crystals, the path of its downwards trajectory, and its eventual landing. One by one, the snowflakes fall, some whip in the air more than others, forced to circle…

"POTTER!" Snape yells. Harry jerks abruptly, and stops watching the snowstorm that falls outside. (Although he watches it in his head, because there are no windows in dungeons.) "Have you been paying attention?"

"A bit," Harry replies.

Snape gives him a look of dissatisfaction. "Very well, we shall see. _Legilimens!"_

A sharp pain sears through Harry, and number of memories flashes in his head, all of them about snow.

The snowstorm that he was watching minutes before in his mind…he tossed a snowball and Fred…he was on a mountain in Tokyo... there was a girl with blonde, scraggly hair and mismatched eyes making snow angels on the ground.

"_Look, Harry! It's Aziraphale_," she chirps before the memory bursts with a pop.

Harry is in Snape's… Harry **was** in Snape's office and pressed his pounding head against the cool floor. He needed to take a deep breath and calm down and learn Occlumency. Harry could not allow Snape to find out about the Endless.

"As I suspected," said Snape, "Your attempt at Occlumency was pathetic. You have no hope of blocking the Dark Lord with that performance."

"But I don't really know to do it, and you haven't..." Harry began.

"Clear your mind!" Harry barely had time to register the statement before Snape cast the spell again.

The tablet with The Four Lessons sat next to his bed…Fleur was dancing at the Yule Ball…Ron opened his gift and revealed the pocket knife…

A noise of exasperation escaped his throat and Harry seethed at his Potions professor. "Clear you mind! If that's all there is to it, then I already know Occlumency. If you weren't so pathetic, maybe you would have realized it!" The admission caused Snape to pause, but the expression on his face is still lined with disdain.

"Then why haven't you been using it, you idiot boy?"

"I didn't know it was called that." He clutched his head; it was pounding from the force of the attack, and he feels a strong urge to cause some pain. _How dare he take these memories from his head? _

"Prove it_. Legilimens_!"

The pocket mirror with Sirius's face on it…the talking mirror insulted McGonagall in his third year…the frozen image of his mother as she's about to die…

The spell stopped, and Harry was ready to hurt Snape, (Potions rooms have plenty of knives) but there's a distant look in the man's eyes and his face is pale.

"Get out," he said. There was a strain in Snape's voice and it lacked the usual malice. So Harry left, he'd rather not deal with disposing Snape's body at the moment. As he trudged back to the Common Room, he was grateful Snape had not discovered any of his secrets. Snape had come close a few times, but he had not seen a single glimpse of murder in Harry's memories, or noticed the realms of the Endless.

But Harry was still angry, and the temptation lingered. So he went to see Sirius, and found Remus Lupin there as well. By the night's end, he felt better, and went to bed in good spirits.

**That night…**

_Harry dreamed of dark corridors and light that peeked out from beneath doorways. Somewhere behind him, he could hear a raven cawing. There was one door that he really wanted to go through. Harry pressed his hand against it and jiggled the handle. It was locked. Frustrated, he reached into his pocket, and the lock clicked with a twist of his knife. He opened the door…_

Then he found himself tumbling in the air, too surprised to scream, and flopped onto a large pile of leaves. He adjusted his glasses as he looked at his surroundings. There were cans of paint scattered on the floor, and he was sitting on top of a large cart filled with multicolored leaves.

"Hey, Kid! This part of The Dreaming is strictly forbidden. **No Trespassing Allowed** as they say."

"Er, I'm sorry?" Harry responded looking for the speaker. "I'm not certain how I ended up here." There was a movement in the corner of his eye, and Harry saw a Jack 'O Lantern lowering himself from a ladder. Well, his head was a pumpkin; the rest of his body had a scarecrow quality, thin and spindly, and he wore a pair of worn overalls. The pumpkin laughed as he watched Harry try to extricate himself from the large pile of leaves.

"Ah, you're not a smart one. I'll set you straight. You tumbled right out of the sky there, and landed in that cart of leaves," the stranger pointed up with a gloved hand. Harry's eyes looked up, where the mysterious door he opened was still visible in the sky. The pumpkin patted his pockets and frowned.

"Kid, you wouldn't happen to have a smoke would you? I think I gave my last one to The Little Norwegian."

"Er, yes… I think so," Harry said, and reached in his pocket. He found an opened package of cigarettes in there, and offered it to the stranger.

"Thanks, these are my favorites," the pumpkin said as he lit the cigarette.

"Keep it. I'm not certain why I have them anyway," Harry admitted as looked at the half-destroyed grove. "Do you know a way out of here?" The stranger's eyes narrowed, he surveyed Harry up and down before responding.

"I'm not supposed to show people around, that's not my job. If you're stuck, then you're stuck. I got enough to do around her without taking care of some people who don't watch where their going." He took a puff, and then gave Harry a wide grin. "But you did me a favor and that sort of thing is respected around here. I guess I could take some of my important time and show you the way out." The stranger led Harry away from the cart and paint supplies.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked curiously, his eyes on the items scattered on the floor.

"Lord Morpheus wants the grove torn down, said something about turning this into a train station. What's the point of tearing down a perfectly good grove I ask, when he can just build the station out of nothin'?" The pumpkin took another puff. "Not that I asked him, mind you."

After a long walk, (in which they passed a parade that featured headless corpses and a drunken bear) they reached a massive castle, magnificent and shimmering. Harry stared in awe even as he approached, while Hogwarts was impressive, it had been built years ago, and showed its age with worn stone and rusty window frames. But this castle was perfect and carried with it a timeless quality as if it was created the day before. This was castle of fairy tales.

Or perhaps, just tales.

Harry and his companion climbed the stairs, only to be stopped by a voice.

"And who are you that seeks Lord Morpheus?"

Harry raised his head and found a large shape looming over him. There were three large creatures at the doorway to the castle. The one who spoke was a wyvern. (Harry knew this with absolute certainty, despite never having met a wyvern before.)

"Hey now, the kid is with me. He's lost and I'm doing him a favor," said Harry's escort.

"Be that as it may, Lord Morpheus has never been terribly interested in the affairs of mortals," replied the guardian of the castle.

"Ah, there you are, I thought I lost you." The voice came from a nearby raven perched on a windowsill. "Lord Morpheus told me to keep an eye on him for any funny business. I'll let him know you are here, I think he'll want to talk to you."

"See?" said the pumpkin grandly. "I know what I'm doing."

Harry had been quiet during most of the journey, uncertain of what was going on, but now he felt at ease as he walked up the steps of the castle.

"What's your name?" he asked of his companion.

"Mervyn Pumpkinhead," was the response. Harry gave a chuckle that caused Mervyn to frown. "You got a problem with my name, Kid?"

"Oh, no, not at all. It's not terrible original though," Harry responded with a shrug.

"Oh, yeah and what's your name?"

"Harry Potter," he answered.

Mervyn let out a snort of amusement. "I've seen hairier things than you. In fact, I had drinks with a yeti from Tibet just last week. At least _my name_ tells me who I am." Mervyn leaned against the wall comfortably. "Lord Morpheus gave me my name. I'm pretty important to him you know."

"I'm sorry, I don't know who that is," Harry admitted

"Of course you know him!" Merv's eyeholes widened with shock, "He's the Lord Dream, everybody knows him. But then again, you're mortal." He gave a poke to Harry's chest. "Your kind tends to move fast and forget things. Me, I'm an idea; we're harder to get rid of. We are tough as old boots, the best of the best. And Lord Morpheus is the best Boss you could hope for, well most of the time. He's always asking me to do things, which yeah, I don't mind but sometimes it can be a pain. As long as he's not in love we get along pretty well. When he's in love, well, you know that one day it's gonna all fall apart and the chick will leave. Then he'll ask me to tear down the beach he made for her…" A dark figure was approaching in the shadows, but Harry could not get Mervyns' attention to warn him.

"A bird dumps me and I move on. I'm not going to worry about it. But he gets all mopey, and depressive and then here comes the clouds and the rain. And people like me get stuck with a grumpy boss and extra work." The figure emerged from the shadows, thin and dark, the raven perched on his shoulder. Harry looked at him with wide eyes.

"If I was the boss, I think I'd invite my workers for dinner every once and a while. Just to let them know, 'Hey, Merv, You're the best.' I'd do that instead of giving them a list of things to do as long as Tiny's arm and having a stick up my …." Catching the look on Harry's face, he paused. "He's right behind me, innit he?" His shoulder's slumped at Harry's silent nod before he turned around.

"Look who I found Boss! He was wandering around a forbidden area of The Dreaming, brought him straight to you." Dream nodded, his face expressionless.

"I have been meaning to speak with you. Mervyn, you may return to your duties."

"Right-o. See you later, Kid. Thanks for the smokes," Merv said before leaving.

"Harry Potter," said Dream softly, observing Harry with dark eyes. "You are growing into a most remarkable individual." Harry remained silent, uncertain of what to say. "You bear the unmistakable influence of my siblings on you, perhaps more than is prudent. And that has led to some unfortunate events; you know what I speak of. My intervention during your childhood led to your ensured survival for another day." Harry nodded, as he recalled the vague promise of revenge and freedom that helped him get through his imprisonment with the assassins.

"Many years ago I met the man who titles himself Lord Voldemort. He told me that I had little power that interested him. Shortly afterwards, his consciousness journeyed to the furthest edges of The Dreaming where even some of my most untrustworthy nightmares fear to journey. And there he remained unbothered for years until he attacked you." Dream pointed up to a long column that crossed the sky until it disappeared in the horizon. "That beam is an result of his actions. You share a connection to Lord Voldemort. And that is how you ended up here, he is sending you visions through this connection"

"Can you get rid of it?" Harry asked.

"Certainly, my power in The Dreaming is absolute. However, it would also leave you dead, a situation I believe neither you or I find satisfactory." Harry looked at Dream, trying to figure out if he was joking. However, his expression had not changed, and Harry was under the impression that Dream did not have a sense of humor.

"For such an insult of my honor, I took an interest in his downfall. I have given you the key to his defeat in a story, safe from his eyes," continued Dream.

"Which one?" asked Harry.

"Stories," replied Dream, "often contain a journey and quest of a hero. If you were to know the exact path which to take, the story will not exist."

Harry sighed. "Oh. I suppose that makes sense. What about the visions?"

"You must solve that yourself," replied Dream, "it has little concern to me."

"Well, thank you anyway," Harry replied.

And then Harry woke up.

* * *

**At the Ministry…**

His hand hovers over the globe, and then he switches it with the transfigured replica in his hand. He waits for alarms that never come. Five minutes in the Ministry and he has the prophecy that Voldemort wants, and Harry has taken it. Because in THIS game of Harry vs. Voldemort both of the contestants are cowards, but only one of them admits it.

So Harry wins again.

But he has time, because Sirius won't be worried yet, and so he explores. He pokes his head in the section devoted to memory and thought, admires the hourglasses of time. A lone curtain flutters in a non-existent breeze and Harry hears the chants of the dead that urge him forward.

"It's not time yet," he murmurs and they fall silent.

He fails to open a door because it's locked. Perplexed, Harry reaches into his pocket and pulls out his knife, and waits for the click, only to find it melting in his hands. He stares at in shock.

It's time to leave.

Sirius buys him a new knife and Harry tosses the prophecy in the lake. Even if the Merpeople hear it, Voldemort would never ask them for help anyway. The thought of listening to it never occurs to him, not because he's afraid of Voldemort ripping it from his mind, or the knowledge that he might cause the events by knowing the prophecy. He doesn't listen to it because he already knows the end.

It starts with a D.

* * *

**In the hallway between lessons…**

"So are you doing anything for Hogsmeade, Harry?" Cho asks.

"Not really." Harry is walking to dinner, and he feels odd. His heart is pounding in his chest, and his palms are sweaty. The thumping of his heart is in a rhythm. It's a strange song that he already knows. He could know everything if he wanted to. He could know the number of snowflakes that fall in the sky from snowstorm, the exact meaning of the pattern of a leopard's spots, he could know the…

"It's on Valentine's Day," she says, jarring Harry back to attention. His mind is drifting again; he needs to concentrate on something real. He turns to Cho. She smells nice, a sweet blend of vanilla and peaches. He watches her lips move. " Maybe we will run into each other over there," they say.

"Yeah, we might," Harry replies. Her hair is swishing back and forth in front of her face, but he can still see the movement of her lips, hear her tongue brush across her teeth. She smiles and walks away, and now he is looking at her long curtain of hair as it catches the light.

"Could you be anymore obvious, Harry?" a smug voice asks. Harry turns around swiftly, and sees George Weasley. Harry stares at him in confusion before turning around. The last strands of Cho's hair disappear around the corner of the hallway, and he gives a groan.

Desire was playing games with him.

"No," Harry says half to himself, "Hell, no."

He's going to say in the castle next Hogsmeade visit.

**After a visit to the Ministry…**

"Lovegood knows," says Blaise when he and George come back from Defense class.

"What?" asks Harry as he watched his doppelganger turn back to a Weasley.

"She told me that that my mind isn't my own. Or your own, I'm not sure which one with her. Somehow she figured out that you are skipping class. Maybe we should stop," said George.

"I think she'll keep my secret," Harry replies.

**His stomach and mind are full **after his visit from the kitchens. The first from the excellent pastries he ate, and the second from Dobby's unexpected admission that Voldemort killed Kreacher. What did Kreacher do that made Voldemort so angry?

**On Valentines Day…**

He is in the Room of Requirement, avoiding Cho who is in Hogsmeade. It is then that he finds the black diary, the same one that he stole from Ginny that should be hidden under a floorboard in the Owlery. He rushes up the stairs to check, and finds it tied to the beam exactly how he left it three years ago. The Room of Requirement managed to pull the diary from its hiding place to somewhere new. Harry had forgotten about the diary, but he knows he needs to check the library of Grimmauld Place over the summer to find out what it is. He also wonders what other secrets the Room of Requirement hides.

**That night** he dreams of dark corridors and light and he needs to go forward because he wants to. The next morning he laughs because Voldemort is in his head and is trying to manipulate him, and Harry wants to manipulate back. Voldemort doesn't realize it can go both ways because they are both Slytherins who think alike.

* * *

**In March…**

Luna approaches him with an unusually solemn face.

"Harry, I was told to give you a message."

"What's the message?" Harry asks.

"I don't know," Luna replied, "I just know there was a message by a girl." She begins to hum and when they stop; she says his name in a different voice "Harry? Are you mad at me?"

"Del, what are you doing in Luna?" Harry asks.

"Luna? Oh, that explains why we couldn't go to the moon together. It's okay, I asked for her permission first. Why haven't you talked to me? I gave you a gift and then you ran away."

"You have Frank and Alice there in your realm don't you?" She nods. "It reminded me of something I forgot. I'm not mad at you; you've been my friend. But… you're hurting me." Harry frowns. "I think it's time for me to let go." Luna's lips form into an "O."

_Oh, I didn't mean to hurt you._

OH, I'm sorry will you forgive ME?

Oh, I don't want you to leave.

Oh, I understand.

**Okay.**

"Even the colors?" Delirium asks in Luna's body. Harry hesitates. The visions of color were unnatural, but Harry was so accustomed to them that he had forgotten that it was a gift from her. If it weren't for it, he wouldn't have known about Voldemort in Quirrell or Ginny. It was easy for him to see that Crouch was driven insane and guide him back to the castle. It meant there would be no more fish in the sky, songs in his head, and she would be gone. But... it was for the best.

"Yes, even the colors. Take them back." Harry says. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out a coin. It's the one he uses for the defense group, but it can be replaced. "Here is a gift for you."

She reaches for it, and then holds it in Luna's hand. "There is no such thing…" she says enigmatically as the coin disappears. "Thank you. Harry, my sister has a floppy hat collection."

"Er, okay," Harry responds. And then she's gone and Harry can tell she's gone because the world feels like a duller and crueler place without her. He doesn't like it very much, and he blinks his eyes rapidly to stop the burning in his eyes. And now Luna's back and she's telling him about wrakspurts. And he gently reminds her about belief and ideas and reality (because he's thinking of Dream, and he's not ready to let go of all the Endless.)

And his mind is drifting because he already misses her, and he doesn't want Luna to know so he turns his head to look out the window and thinks of Del's last words, and even in the frosty window pane, he can see Luna's reflection, (a blotch of color,) so he draws a hat on her head, and remembers her lion hat and he asks about it. There is thin layer of frost under his fingertips, it keeps him cool and calm and he's like the ice, transparent and clear and Luna can SEE him.

And when she laughs… it's giddy and joyous and Harry thinks that Del might not be gone from his life after all.

* * *

_Note to Self:_ Harry scribbles the next day on a canvas in his mind. _It is easier to become a lunatic than it is to become sane._

_

* * *

  
_

**The night Cedric and Dumbledore leave…**

Harry takes pleasure from watching Malfoy's face turn pink from the faint hint of Dobby's freedom. He takes pride that someone had the sense to hex the parchment, and is grateful that he had not spilled a word to Sirius. But when he sees the words _Dumbledore's Army _on the top of his page, it occurs to him he forgot to check the sheet he signed to everyone.

Harry's not perfect.

He leaves the Headmaster's office and walks down a hallway, stopping when he reaches a portrait. "Hello!" Harry says, "My name is Harry Potter and I would like to enter the Hufflepuff Dormitory." (Hufflepuff is a loyal house, and if you are loyal someone inside will let you in.) The woman gives him a piercing look, and disappears. A minute later, Ernie is holding the door open for him. Minutes after that and he is in front of the entire house giving them a challenge in Cedric's honor. Or so they think.

"Cedric's been expelled and Dumbledore is no longer in the school. In the morning, Umbridge will be Headmistress, and I know that everyone's not fond of that idea. So we are going to have a little contest. Hufflepuff, you have two weeks to drive Umbridge crazy enough to quit. Two weeks after that Ravenclaw with have their turn followed by Gryffindor."

"What about Slytherin?" cries an unknown voice.

"We will not participate, we are judging."

"You don't want to get caught," accuses Zechariah Smith.

"Obviously," replies Harry, "Why would I risk my neck out when you people are willing? Besides, we need a judge and it's fair to say that Blaise and Daphne hate all three houses equally. I should warn you. With Dumbledore gone, there's no one to stop Umbridge. So if finds you doing something wrong, she might slap you with a detention for the rest of the year. SO DON'T GET CAUGHT."

He leaves and tells the same message to Ravenclaw. He ignores Cho and Marietta.

"Are. You. Insane?" Hermione cries when she hears Harry's challenge among the cheers of Gryffindor.

"Possibly," he says to her. "But you say that likes it's a bad thing. Some good will come from this, I know it."

During the next six weeks chaos travels around Umbridge. The Weasley twins leave Hogwarts in a storm of fireworks and noise. No one is caught and everybody wins.

**When Umbridge is Headmistress…**

She is unhappy, and starts to take it out on everyone. To keep the others safe, Harry makes a plea to the portraits to warn innocent bystanders so they aren't caught in her path. On one such occasion, Sir Cadogan warns Harry, and he enters the nearest room. It is there that he meets Myrtle the Ghost, (who stopped Moaning and weeping three years prior). Somehow, although he can't recall the exact details, he talks to her about her death, and death, and Death, and why Myrtle became a ghost.

Harry does not understand why anyone would choose to stay in this world, not being able to touch, taste, and live. Not when She is waiting, with her kind smile and laughter. It's a strange conversation, morbid, depressing, and pitiful in many ways. When Harry says goodbye to Myrtle, he feels sorry for her, and he wonders if it is the same for all of the ghosts. A few weeks later, he questions the Fat Friar, and realizes that it is.

And he can't help but notice that the ghosts love the attention he gives them, and Harry thinks that may be why there are so many of them in the school. They want to influence the children of Hogwarts and hope they still having meaning. So they tell stories, and impart wisdom they have learned from their lives. And while Harry knows he has many things to do, he is also mindful of the warning Dream gave him, and so he listens to their stories.

* * *

**Late April…**

Draco's new strut is irritating Harry. Draco's smug grin is irritating Harry. Draco's habit of poking his nose in unwanted business is irritating Harry. Draco accusing him of being gay really irritates Harry.

Time to have some fun.

**In order to threaten someone; it is best to make it appear as a dream or so **

**embarrassing that said victim will remain silent of their own will. Or both.**

Step one: Tie your victim up so he can't move.

_The spoiled brat sleeps like a log._

Step Two: Use strange items to make it seem like a dream and a possible bout of insanity.

_Fake wand, strange hat, but I'm missing something else. Serpensortia!_

Step Three: Eliminating personal space is an effective way of intimidation.

_Poke with wand. Unbutton victim's shirt slowly. Place hand on thigh. Strange laugh._

_Dammit! I forgot to button my pajama shirt when I changed. _

_Urgh. I'm not doing this again._

Step Four: Physical pain is good too.

_Wuss._

Step Five: Clean up your mess.

_Essence of dittany is fantastic._

**During an interrogation…**

"Tell me where he is!" Harry looks at Umbridge with a certain amount of disinterest, he doesn't know where Dumbledore was, and he wouldn't have told her anyway. He mumbles something in reply, uninterested in her games.

But then Luna screams.

Her shrill cries lift him from his daze. He feels his fists shake, How dare she? Luna reminds him of Deliruim, the strange way she views the world, her knowing presence. But Del was old as the universe, and Luna is just a fourteen year old girl.

"Stop," Harry says firmly, his voice a quiet contrast to the tortured girl at his teacher's feet. Umbridge releases the spell, her face brimming of confidence and cruelty. Umbridge thinks she had broken him and a spike of hate courses through Harry's veins. He attempts to calm himself down, but Luna looks up at him from the floor, her movements are awkward from the spell effects.

Harry has reached his breaking point.

"I… I…it's no use, is it?" Harry tries to be calm, hoping that she would be off put by his reaction, but he found himself stuttering from suppressed anger. He sucks in a breath and closes his eyes, shoving his anger to the back of his mind and attempts once more.

"You'll just keep going on. You want to find Dumbledore, and you'll stop at nothing." Harry says his thoughts out loud, a measure of rationality returning with each syllable.

"So, you'll give me what I need?" Umbridge asks, her anticipation apparent in her body. But the Slytherin in Harry notices the phrasing of her question. Need is not the same as want. What did Umbridge need? He clasps his hands together as he contemplates the question, his fingers brushing against the scars she made him scrawl on his own flesh. He looks Umbrige's face, her expression full of victory, even as Luna sits at her feet. Delores Umbridge is not Voldemort, just a witch who symbolized the effects of a corrupt government.

But she had served her purpose in bringing together students who despised her, practice for the Dark times that would come. And while she brought irritating laws, and a lack of freedom, they did have a use in warning people of what was to come. The use of an Unforgivable, however, was a line she shouldn't have crossed, because now it wasn't practice anymore. Umbridge had toed the line for several months, but now it was real. She was an enemy.

"I don't think there is any point in denying it anymore. I tried, I really did. We'll have to go off grounds of course," Harry's only vaguely aware of the words he says, his mind piecing together various possibilities that lay before him. There were so many ways to kill her, oh which one should he pick? He follows her out of the room, only remembering as he reaches the doorway of the reminder that he gave to Draco a few days before. He turns towards his classmate, and is somewhat amused to notice his pale face. Harry contemplated saying something ominous, before he brushes the thought away, those sort of dramatics were done by people who wanted to get caught.

He leads Umbridge out of the school, heading for the darkness of the Forbidden Forest. Hagrid's escape from the school grounds meant it was unlikely they would be seen, as long as he keeps to the edge of the forest. But he needs to be certain of his own thoughts if he was going to succeed.

Harry walks to the forest, and with each step he clears his mind.

Harry is walking to the forest, and is practicing Occlumency.

Harry walked to the forest and contemplated on precisely how much he should make Umbridge scream. He stopped in front of a large tree, pointing at root protruding from the damp earth. "The tree is a doorway to an underground bunker, all you have to do is tap the bark with your wand and tug at the root."

Umbridge looked at him, her face contorted with glee. "I knew it! Oh, the Minsiter will be so pleased. Go on, open the door."

Harry shook his head. "You have to be of age in order for it to work, it was a precaution in case any students found it."

Umbridge tapped her wand against her leg, and gave a short nod. "Yes, yes, I can see, Dumbledore would think of such precautions…" She sniffed, and motioned for Harry to move out of the way. Harry obliged, and Umbridge stepped forward, her eyes firmly focused on the tree trunk in front of her. As she stretched out her arm to tap the tree trunk, Harry stepped behind her, wrapping his left arm around her neck, his other arm grasping the wand out of her hand. Umbridge let out a small noise of surprise, which was silenced as he stunned her with her own wand.

He made little noise as he set her down on the forest floor, the rustle of the wind the only noise at the edge of the forest. He knelt before her and noticed Umbridge's face was absent of malice, but hardened enough to eliminate any trace of innocence. Harry closed his eyes as he considered his options. She had to die, the choice was made as soon as she raised her wand against Luna. He was fighting this war against Voldemort and those toxic ideals for people like her, and Umbridge would be the first person to feel the direct effects of his actions. Still, he had to make certain steps, he had to have a solid alibi, and Umbridge's death needed to be carefully chosen. He had spent enough time thinking of creative ways, but choosing the actual one, well that would have to take some careful consideration, and he was still angry from her earlier attack. Now was not the time for him to making such an important choice.

Harry sighed, as he came upon the realization. It was no use; he would have to hold off a proper decision until tomorrow. Harry could see his wand peeking out of her pocket and reached for it, tapping in on Umbridge's forehead with a '_crack_' as a Disillusionment Spell took effect. He slipped under his Invisibility Cloak and floated her body back to Hagrid's hut. Her body was dropped unceremoniously inside, and Harry bound her in tight ropes. As he sat down at the nearby table, he pulled a piece of paper towards him, and began to plan.

He scrawled a list of some of some loose ends he had to tie up, and looked at them intently. The best plans were the easiest plans, the more steps required meant there was more likelihood to get caught. If he could tie all of the loose ends together, it would be perfect. The plan was forming slowly in his mind, recalling the information he had retrieved earlier during his numerous Ministry visits, and information that he had overheard during his stay at Grimmauld place.

A jolt rocked his system as he realized the perfect solution, followed by a tendril of revulsion. He pulled out Umbridge's wand from his pocket, recalling Luna's tortured gasps that it had caused just a few minutes ago. He would have to deal with it. Harry Stunned Umbridge once more, made a quick stop behind the fake mirror to pick up the rest of the Polyjuce Potion, and then he headed for the Room of Requirement to get a proper nights rest.

He might take the identity of Umbridge tomorrow before he took her life, but he did not have to sleep in her bed.

* * *

**A/N:** Merv is made of mud and awesome. There's an image of him on my profile for the curious.

**Next Chapter:** OWN (last of book 5)


	41. Ch 38 OWN

**Chapter Thirty-Eight**

**OWN**

**Love takes hostages. It gets inside you. It eats you out and leaves you crying in the darkness, so a simple phrase like "maybe we should just be friends" or "how very perceptive" turns into a glass splinter working its way into your heart.**

Rose Walker in _The Kindly Ones_

_

* * *

  
_

Harry woke up early the next day, his neck was stiff and uncomfortable from the hammock that he slept in. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the bottle of Polyjuice Potion, and grimaced. He was not looking forward to this, but he needed an irrefutable alibi against Umbridge. Harry placed that hair he lifted from Umbridge's head into potion and watched as it changed color. He snorted when he noticed the end result. Even her soul was pink.

He raised the bottle to his lips and took a gigantic swig. The potion was revolting, a horrid combination that tasted a bit like black licorice and soap. The unpleasant sensation continued as Harry began to shrink, his body morphing into Umbridge. When it was over, he looked into a mirror that had appeared on the wall of the Room of Requirement, and saw her face looking back at him. He walked over and made various faces.

"Detention, Mr. Potter," he said to the reflection. Then he laughed.

It was astonishingly easy to be Umbridge. Harry was a bit concerned that the other teachers might grow suspicious, but with McGonagall at St. Mungo's, Umbridge's greatest opponent was out of the way. And he stayed away from Snape, worried that he would attempt to read Harry's mind. However, his concerns were unnecessary, he gave the staff a bit too much credit. Their dislike of Umbridge led to the staff ignoring Harry completely as he waddled in her body. All he had to do was overact, he made Umbridge a caricature, and it turned out that everyone believed him. His heart raced when he sat in front of his fellow fifth years, fearful that he would betray himself in front of them. Blaise knew of Harry's Polyjuice Potion, although he was under the belief that all of it had been used prior to the Weasley twins' departure from Hogwarts. He saw Blaise's hand rise from the corner of his eye, and he studiously avoided contact until he could put it off no longer.

"Where's Harry?" asked Blaise.

Harry pressed his lips together, took a deep breath, and began to lie. He made up a story about serving a detention in the Forbidden Forest, and gave his best Umbridge smile. They bought it. After that, he became more comfortable in his role as Hogwart's Headmistress, the bane of the school. He yelled at Peeves after two water balloons were plopped on his head. He chastised Sprout for giving some of the students' nonsense ideas. He even gave a third year a detention for the next day for the hell of it.

It was a nice change to be someone other than himself. But when the sun set, the game was over, and Harry had to deal with the messy situation of disposing the real Umbridge.

That night he went to Hagrid's hut to find his captive. He opened the door, and he caught a whiff of something putrid, and could hear a faint sound of someone writhing on the ground.

"Oh, dear, I forgot to give you a bucket," Harry said with great relish as he looked at the damp spot in her lap. Then he laughed, he never planned on giving her a bucket. He had become quite the liar since taking on her form. Was it because he had picked up some of her traits? Was he becoming her? Was he losing himself? Or did he really enjoy the fact that _I must not tell lies_ only mattered when he was Umbridge?

He walked around the room, and made certain all of the windows were closed and blocked, and secured the door before he walked over. He placed a few Imperturbable Charms as well; it wouldn't do any good if people could hear the woman screaming.

"Hello, Delores. Do you mind if I call you Delores? It doesn't really matter if I call you Delores, because I don't think it would be very polite of me to call you by your last name because really that's not very personable. And I want you to know that I don't really have anything against you except that you have everything against... I'm rambling aren't I? Let me start again. Delores starts with D, and lots of things that I like begin with D. I don't like you, but for tonight, I'll pretend."

Umbridge's eyes widened.

"Last year, I learned about the Unforgivables, do you know what that means? I can't forgive you for hurting Luna. I can't. So, you have to die." She let out a small whimpering noise.

"You know, it's funny. I never thought I would learn anything from you. It turns out I learned quite a bit. I learned that people of all different types will unite against a common enemy, and you were that enemy. I learned that people don't like being told what to do, when _you_ told them what to do. I learned that manipulating people doesn't always work out the way planned, and you have to deal with the consequences."

"You see, you think you have been so very clever, with your power and your decrees, but you don't know that I've been using you all this time. It wouldn't have taken much for me to eliminate you, one well-placed push off of the Astronomy Tower, luring you into the Forbidden Forest, the list goes on and on. But you were useful. You were practice, a trial run so that I don't screw up when it really matters. But I made a mistake. I had counted on Dumbledore's presence to keep the whole thing in check, so you wouldn't be too much of a bitch and the students wouldn't do anything illegal. And when he left the school, I forgot to make an adjustment for that. It was an oversight and I'm sorry. But there is some good news, I learned from that mistake. And I have to thank you; you've been a most excellent teacher."

He gave her a smile. "I'm going to remove the cloth from your mouth, and we can have a nice chat." He reached for her face and withdrew the cloth. She immediately began to scream, alternately calling for help and swearing at Harry. After five minutes the words began to be less vehement.

"Are you done now?" Harry asked in a bored tone.

"You won't get away with this," Umbridge spat out, her voice raspy and dry.

"I will. I know I will. You see, I've got the perfect plan." Harry laughed. "I'm clever. That's why I was sorted into Slytherin. But most of the people in my house also have an enormous amount of arrogance, and they don't realize that there is more than one-way of doing things right. I don't have that problem. And when I heard two years ago that a mediocre wizard framed my godfather for murder, the first thing I thought of was how brilliant that plan had been. All of his witnesses were Muggles and they didn't really know what they were watching when the street blasted open, and none of them would have dared to mention he turned into a rat. And after the testimonies were delivered, their memories were wiped. Yes, there were some flaws, but overall not a bad plan."

"So that's what I'm going to do to you. We are going to go to London, and as far as anyone will know, because they are Muggles, you Apparated into the middle of a street, and then were squashed flat by a bus." Umbridge's face turned an odd shade of pink. "What?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"You won't get away with it. I don't have an Appartating License because I have used the Floo all of my life. They'll immediately know that something went wrong and people will know you are responsible because I was last seen with you!" Umbridge crowed. "Now let me go Potter, and I'll be lenient towards you. Perhaps only a few months in Azkaban."

Harry gave her a stony look. "You are an idiot. How many times do I have to tell you? The minute you raised your wand against Luna, your life was mine. I _own_ you. And now that you have told me about it, I can fix this little problem. I'll be right back." Harry Stunned her once more and stuffed the cloth in her mouth and walked back to the castle. The solution wasn't that difficult, he had already planned on using his Umbridge disguise to take care of another problem. He Flooed over to the Ministry, and after he checked his image in a mirror on the wall to ensure he looked properly Umbridge-ish, walked purposely to the Department of Transportation.

The Department of Transportation was fascinating to Harry, but since it was such a busy place, he had not seen much, too fearful of being run over by a negligent wizard. It was here that wizards took their tests in order to receive an Apparting License. Proper Minsitry officials made Portkeys here. Companies that created broomsticks had to be evaluated for safety standards in this branch.

But perhaps one of the most complex things that the Department of Transportation was responsible for was the regulation of the Floo. It was here that the Ministry connected the fireplaces all over Great Britain. And luckily for Harry, he knew who was in charge of it, Marietta's mother.

Harry hadn't forgiven her for betraying the defense group, but he had not taken any action against her. One reason was because Hermione's hex was a work of art, and two; he had already suspected her to begin with. So he walked past most of the rooms in the Department and over to the primary Floo office and greeted his target.

"Good day, Olivia." he said sweetly to Edgecombe. _Good lord, did his teeth just rot?_

"Madame Umbridge!" cried the woman, "To what do we owe this pleasure?'

"How long have you been monitoring the Hogwart's fireplaces? Since I became Hogwarts High Inquisitor, correct?"

"I believe so," said Marietta's mother.

"Well, I think it's time to stop. I have heard some rumors, and there is some evidence to this as well. I hope that you will keep this secret." Harry paused dramatically, and waited for Edgecombe to nod. "There are secret passages outside of the school. The reason I asked you to monitor the fireplaces is to protect the students's from involving themselves in any funny business. It appears that it has little effect, your sweet daughter can attest to that. And because of this, we shall try something new."

Harry withdrew a small globe out of his pocket.

"I would like this to be turned into a Portkey to Hogsmeade. One time use is fine. If any of the residents of Hogsmeade find a student out of bounds they can contact me. This Portkey will allow me to travel to Hogsmeade immediately and I will be able to apprehend the students in question personally."

Edgecombe nodded her head, "I understand Madame Umbridge." She placed the globe on a nearby desk and walked over to the Floo System. "That reminds me, Bathilda Bagshot would like her Floo removed from the network. She said something about going out of the country to visit some relatives for a few months."

The Floo Network was organized in two parts, one was a large fireplace surrounded by glass slides that were labeled with addresses and the other part was dais. It was a table made of stone etched with runes, and at the center was a globe. The globe looked like someone stuck a crystal ball at the center of the tablet and pushed it in until only half remained. Harry walked behind Edgecombe to the far side of the room, and watched her. She inserted a key on the edge of the table in three different locks and the runes on the table began to glow; their light slowly reaching the globe. When the light reached the center, the glass at the center opened to reveal some red sand.

Edgecombe removed the sand, and tossed into the large fireplace, and called out an address. The fire flared and the deep, red smoke travel through transparent channels along the walls and floor until it reached the glass slide with the address in question. A minute later, Harry watched the glass panel fade into nothingness. She did the same thing once more; only this time she called the name Hogwarts. When the smoke filled the slide, Edgecombe removed it from the slot on the wall and muttered an enchantment before placing it once more in the wall. Harry heard a small cough behind him.

"Here you go, Madam Umbridge, all done with your Portkey."

Harry said thank you to the unknown wizard and left the room, his mind racing. He originally intended on using the portkey to get himself back to Hogwarts without arising suspicion, but he now had a different plan. The Floo System was complicated, not because of the fire and the sand, but because it required a delicate balance of intent. The magic was very abstract, and Harry recognized the contraption as something to do with Dream, or perhaps inspired by him. Some fire, a few well-chosen words and a handful of sand was all that was needed to whisk a person to a new destination. He had no doubt that the person who thought of this system was incredibly clever, and was confident that he would be able to use it easily.

And there was an added bonus in possibly screwing Edgecombe out of a job. Harry knew he shouldn't be so petty, but part of him still was disappointed that Marietta proved him right. He slipped back into the main room under his Invisibility Cloak, and waited for everyone to leave.

Edgecombe closed the door behind her, and he stood in the silent room for a few more minutes, ensuring that she was gone. It was quite late by now, and he thought it was unlikely that anyone would interrupt him. Then he walked over the table, and stuck his knife into the different keyholes, and the runes began to glow. For the next twenty minutes, he manipulated the Floo System. He called out random addresses in the fireplace.

There were some flaws, not all of them existed, and a great many of them had the street names of his Muggleborn friends. Some of the Floos were wizard-to-wizard households; albeit the wrong ones, and some dropped off people in abandon homes in London.

Confident with his mischief, Harry left the room, taking the small portkey with him. He had one more thing to do and then he would be able to attend to Umbridge.

* * *

When Harry returned from the Ministry, he was satisfied with a job well done, and quickly fetched Umbridge from her hiding place in Hagrid's hut. A few minutes later, they popped out of fireplace in an abandoned building right outside of the Ministry. He had noticed the building during his visit to the Ministry the previous summer after the dementor incident. She was conscious, although gagged and tied up.

"You asked me to give you what you need, and I am. You should have asked me to give you what you want. It's not the same thing. Goodbye, Delores. The minute you decided to cast an Unforgivable, and your life became mine. You may not think it's right, and you might not think it's fair, and you might want to promise that you'll never ever do such a thing again, but I can't risk keeping you alive. I walked in your shoes, and I learned that you're a liar. I have people to protect and I can't risk it. "

Harry noticed the defiant gleam in Umbridge's eyes, and his suspicion that she would try to haunt him was growing. It was idea that had been planted after he watched The Grey Lady pass him earlier in the day. Having her ghost float around and accuse him of murder wouldn't do.

"But I'm going to tell you this one thing. There's a woman that's going to come for you. She'll have long black hair. When she reaches out her hand, take it. You might hate me, and you might want revenge, but take her hand."

"I've talked to the ghosts, and the thing I've learned about them is that they are bitter and confused when they die. They don't understand, or maybe they think that the world is unjust and then the refuse to go with her and chose to stay behind. You can't make that choice. Because no matter how much you hate me, or how much you want revenge, you need to remember there is nothing left for you here. You might accuse me of murder, but all I have to do is give a little speech about Voldemort torturing me, and everyone will think it was him."

"You never liked the ghosts; you never regarded them with much appreciation. It's only going to get worse if you become one. Time will pass, and everything that you hold dear will be erased. Pureblood hierarchy will implode, the Ministry you know will be destroyed, and you'll be irrelevant. Forever. What's more, I'll make certain that Peeves will torment you as long as you both exist."

The rebellious look on Umbridge's face turned into a look of terror.

"So take her hand, she's far nicer than me. I don't know what's next, but there is nothing for you here."

He floated Umbridge behind him, still invisible, and headed toward the busy street nearby. Most of the pedestrian crowd had already ventured to their homes, so it was easy for him to navigate the sidewalks. He stood near the corner where a stoplight was set up nearby, and he waited.

Wizards and witches could escape death where Muggles would die, but he was fairly certain that it would not happen if a double decker bus hit Umbridge. Finally, he saw one approach in the distance, and hastily floated her body to the side of the street when the light turned red.

As he stood by the edge of the street, his wand ready to remove the spells, he felt a presence stand next to him.

"Hello, Harry," she said softy. He didn't respond, afraid if he turned to her, he would lose his nerve. "Are you certain you want to do this?" she asked him.

Harry swallowed awkwardly, and the light turned green. "I'm sending her with you. _Finite Incatatem_." he muttered.

The spells ended, and Umbridge landed on the pavement, visible for a brief moment before she was hit with the bus. Harry heard the noise as her body connected with it, followed by the screeching of the bus' tires and screaming pedestrians . Harry had already snapped Umbridge's wand, and tossed the fragments along the street, dropped the largest bit near the front tire of the stopped bus.

"Where did she come from? I didn't see her crossing the street!" a woman cried out. There was a crowd gathering around the bus. The passengers emerged from the bus; their faces pale even in the faint light. Death was kneeling by Umbridge, preventing Harry from getting a good look at her remains.

Then he walked away.

* * *

The days that followed Umbridge's death passed smoothly. Harry continued to have dreams about the Department of Mysteries but he didn't take any action. The fervor of studying seized the fifth years and Harry often found himself pulled into study sessions with his friends. He found it boring since he knew most of the information anyway. That was the benefit of having to review the basics year after year due to various incidents at Hogwarts. As a result, he didn't have to review most of the information.

When Harry finally took the OWLs, he breezed through the exams easily. He was fairly certain that he missed some information on his subjects, but he wasn't overly concerned with it anyway. On the final day, he awoke with a headache, and Harry could feel it intensify as his Arithmacy Exam continued. He found it difficult to write his essay on the magical qualities of numbers and their importance. Midway through History of Magic Harry saw a vision of Sirius being held captive by Voldemort.

Logically, Harry knew it was contrived, but it didn't stop his nerves. He was relieved when he managed to pull out the mirror and check that Sirius was safe. As he was about to go to bed, the pain flared once more. And just as Harry was about to climb out of bed and find McGonagall, it stopped. Confused, but relieved, Harry relaxed and fell asleep.

Harry only found out what happened the next morning when he went to breakfast and saw The Daily Prophet. There was a large crooked picture of Voldemort in the middle of Hogsmead.

**You-Know-Who Returns!**

The rumors that have spread for the past year were proven true

late last night when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Apparated

in the middle of Hogsmeade village last night. His appearance

was witnessed by numerous people, among them Sirius Black,

who protected some of the started witches and wizards by casting

Shield charms. As a result, no one was killed last night, although

a few people suffered injuries.

"It can go both ways, " Harry muttered to the photograph.

He took a sip of his juice and closed his eyes in concentration. He couldn't feel a stray thought of anger at all, which was Harry's intention. As far as he could tell, Voldemort had put up his own Occlumency shield to protect his thoughts from Harry. Slytherins get other people to do the work for them. Harry had been practicing Occlumency for years, but there was a flaw. By setting his emotions aside, it was easy for him to for him to turn into a cold, uncaring person like Voldemort. It was not a surprise that Snape was an expert at it; the man was an ass. This was not the sort of thing that he could risk; he didn't want to isolate himself.

He continued to read the paper and noticed that Edgecombe was receiving a large amount of scrutiny for her failure in monitoring the Floo System. Voldemort's return was the talk of the school, and people were giving him looks as he ate. Blaise and Daphne noted his attitude and did not ask him any questions, and even went so far to shoo away some of the more curious students. Exasperated by their attention, he finished his breakfast quickly, only to run into McGonagall outside of the Great Hall.

"The Headmaster would like to see you in his office immediately," she said. Harry sighed, unsurprised by the request. When he entered the office, he found Sirius in the office as well.

"You told him didn't you?" Harry asked.

Sirius shrugged. "He guessed, not that it you made it difficult for him to figure out. You and Voldemort were the only two people able to touch the Prophecy. And I highly doubt that Voldemort would have turned the prophecy into a Portkey to Hogsmeade before he stole it."

"I still owed him last year for kidnapping me. I bet he didn't find the situation amusing when it happened to him," Harry said. "Besides, since he knows I'm the one responsible, he finally put up his own Occlumency shields and I don't have to worry about any more visions. I told you I wasn't an idiot."

"Harry, he was furious when he arrived. He started cursing spells all over the place and he injured a few people. There might have been more damage if I hadn't charmed everything in that village for some curse resistance," said Sirius.

"Well, that's part of the reason I chose Hogsmeade," Harry confessed. "I knew that you would keep a level head."

"What I want to know, Harry, is how you managed to procure an Portkey?" said Dumbledore.

"I have my ways," said Harry slyly. "And it's probably best if you don't know." Harry wasn't about to admit his little escapade in Umbridge's body to anyone.

**EVER.**

"Yet, you risked getting caught with such an object, plus breaking into the Ministry for your own aims. In the process, you incurred Voldemort's anger, putting the citizens of Hogsmeade at risk. And subsequently, he chose to raid the prison of Azkaban last night for his most… trustworthy followers."

Harry looked at Dumbledore with boredom. "I don't really care. I made my choice and I don't regret it. It was better than leaving the prophecy in a room where Voldemort could easily get it. And now that everyone knows that he's back and we can stop playing games and get down to business."

Dumbledore gave Harry a piercing look. "We?" he said faintly, catching the word choice in Harry's sentence. "And what makes you believe that you will be involved in this?"

Harry gave a snort. " I don't like him. He tried to kill me when I was one. He tried to kill me last year. There was a prophecy with his and my name on it and he's been sending me visions about the Department of Mysteries. It's inevitable that I'm a part of this."

Dumbledore sighed. "Do you wish to know what is in the prophecy now that you are certain he will not search your mind for its existence?"

"Ignorance is bliss."

"Knowledge is power," replied Dumbledore serenely.

"Not if it's enough to get you in trouble."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Very well. Perhaps it is time for us to have a conversation that is long overdue. I took the opportunity of my estrangement from the Ministry to have a long conversation with Mr. Cedric Diggory. He told me that you planned his expulsion. I must confess your foresight has caught me by surprise. Would you care to explain more about this?"

Harry shrugged. "Sirius told me that she would love to expel someone as an example to others. I assumed the worst and prepared for it. I didn't think of checking the parchment after everyone signed it, if not I would have erased your name from the top of the paper. Sorry."

Dumbledore shook his head. "It is no matter, there were some things I had to attend to, that I was able to work on while the Ministry pursued me. Cedric informed me how the DA came about. I want to know what was your intention for this group. I highly doubt its sole purpose was to drive Umbridge mad."

"I wanted to do something and give people some hope. Everyone was depressed about the new rules, and all I could think of was that it was going to get much worse when Voldemort started doing things. I read up on the war, and it seemed to me that the major problem with it, was that people couldn't trust each other and the people that could be trusted were useless. I hoped to create a ripple effect by helping the parents focus on what needed to be done when talking to their children."

"Then why risk Voldemort's anger? His attacks will be brutal now that he has the attention of the Wizarding World on him."

"Good, then maybe people won't leave it for other people to take care of it. It's not like it's terribly difficult. He's only one person and he's predictable!" Harry leaned forward in excitement and pride. "You know I don't feel a thing from this stupid scar anymore. He's using Occlumency against me because now that he realizes the connections goes both ways. I manipulated him into doing what I wanted him to do."

Dumbledore frowned. "Manipulation will only get you so far, Harry. You need to embrace the aspects of yourself that makes you unique. You contain the ability to love. That is ability that Voldemort does not have patience for and that is his great weakness. It was that very oversight on his behalf that he failed to recognize the protective magic your mother placed on you that Halloween night. And that magic flows in your veins even now, renewed every summer that you stay with your Aunt Petunia."

"You are saying that Voldemort must be defeated with love?" Harry asked.

"Precisely. Love is perhaps the most powerful magic of all."

"That's idiotic." Sirius let out a snort of laughter at Harry's statement. "I understand that you're trying to be clever and profound, but I see right through you. I think that a change of values will defeat him, I completely agree with you. But Love? I don't care for it. Placing such a personal bit of yourself in someone else's possession is an extremely stupid idea. I completely understand why the Dark Lord is unwilling to put himself at such risk."

Dumbledore peered at him with intensity and then gave a small sigh. "Very well, we have a difference of opinion it would seem. I had hoped to have a small discussion on explaining a bit of Voldemort's intentions to you, but it seems that have come to your own conclusions."

Harry shrugged. "He's one man with too much pride and selfish goals who often get other people killed. Can I go now?" He had originally planned on asking Dumbledore for help on the diary, but then he brought up the idea of Love. The merest hint of Desire made his skin crawl, he was tired of the games, and was not interested in bringing them up once more.

"I suppose," replied the Headmaster.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Dumbledore watched Harry leave his office, somewhat troubled by the conversation. There was something a bit off about the boy. What's more, he recalled having the same impression during the brief conversation held in front of the Mirror of Erised. Harry had a dash of arrogance and confidence that was not tempered by normal teenage attitudes. No, this was a sense of elitism that was honed through years of success. It was the same sort that a young Tom Riddle had displayed before him when he introduced the boy to magic all of those years ago. This was an alarming thought.

But there was a slight difference that gave Dumbledore hope. He spoke of his friends fondly, and there seemed to be a genuine trust between him and Sirius. Tom Riddle, as far as Dumbledore could determine, was the sort of person who never placed his confidence in anyone.

"Sirius, has Harry always displayed such... confidence before you?" Albus asked gently. Sirius hesitated, avoiding all form of eye contact.

"No. He has his moments where he seems like a normal fifteen-year-old boy. But really, you don't give him enough credit; he likes to think over everything before he takes any action. He is confident in his skills and he doesn't overestimate himself often. He's come to Remus and I for advice, and there are probably others. Making the prophecy a Portkey seems thoughtless, but I don't think Harry risked their lives just to irritate Voldemort. He placed some trust in the villagers' ability to defend themselves. The problem with Harry is that he assumes that Voldemort is going to kill him eventually. He wants to give Voldemort as much trouble as possible before that happens."

"I think that's a bit of a rash assumption," Dumbledore said, very conscious of the prophecy he had heard at the Hog's Head years ago.

Sirius shrugged. "When he talked to me a bit about his career meeting he confessed he picked Curse breaker because it was one of the professions that fit in with the classes he was already taking. He didn't say anything about wanting to do it, or even his plans for the future. We don't ever talk about what will happen beyond Voldemort."

Dumbledore controlled his disappointment and fear, displaying none of his concern. The Prophecy was clear that Harry had power that Voldemort did not understand, and he was certain that was Harry's ability to love. He had seen Harry unite the four houses, and could already see the hostility towards Slytherin fade. However, he did not foresee Harry's attitude, a confident boy comfortable with manipulation. He would have to rectify these views as soon as possible, before Harry destroyed himself. Dumbledore did his best to ignore the pressure of his own conscience as he spoke to Sirius.

"There is much in life to look forward to. We can protect him as much as we can, but it will be up to Harry to make his own choices. One can hope and dream that Harry will be able to find the thing that gives him the power to truly live."

"What? What did you say?" Sirius asked.

"We can dream that Harry will be able to find the thing that gives him the power to truly live," Dumbledore repeated as he watched the man's face turn pale.

"Yes. You're absolutely right," Sirius said in a strangled voice. "_The_ _power to dream_."

**End of Book Five

* * *

  
**

**Up Next:** The Tale of the Three Brothers


	42. Ch 39 The Tale of the Three Brothers

**Chapter Thirty-Nine**

**The Tale of the Three Brothers**

_**You shouldn't trust the story-teller; only trust the story.**_

- Worlds' End

* * *

Harry walked to his room and lay down in the bed, and stared at the ceiling in his room in Hogsmeade. July was nearly over, and in a few weeks, he would be back at Hogwarts and he honestly had no idea what he was going to do. Last year, he had vague plans that would motivate people to make their own choices, and would make them choose to fight against Voldemort. Harry had strongly suspected that he would be a bit more involved, this was only confirmed when Dumbledore went to pick him up at the Dursleys'. He was confused that Dumbledore would make the time to pick him up when Sirius could have done so.

But it didn't take long for Harry to realize that Dumbledore was using him to lure back Horace Slughorn to teaching at Hogwarts. Harry wondered if Dumbledore was a manipulative person by nature, or if it was Slughorn's obvious preference of a comfortable life that led to Dumbledore's actions. After all, the idea of teaching The Harry Potter practically made Slughorn salivate.

There was a quality about Slughorn that made Harry uncomfortable; he was a man who liked to collect people like trinkets. But Harry couldn't deny that the man had some pull in the Wizarding World, his various photos were proof enough. Slughorn did not hide his desires, and so Harry decided to reserve his judgment until further time was spent with the man.

It wasn't until later that Harry realized that he had seen the man before, over three years ago in the diary memory. He distinctly remembered the walrus-like moustache and the broad smile. The man had taught Voldemort, he had been his Head of House. He rubbed his head as he tried to remember more of what the diary had shown him. There had been a calendar on the wall that helped Harry identify the year; Slughorn had been enthusiastic to help Tom Riddle. Probably because he thought Tom would become a Minister, rather than a Dark Lord. There was something else though, in the corner of the room. What was it?

_Dammit!_

Harry sat up from his bed as he recalled the cauldrons that bubbled in Slughorn's classroom. The man was a Potions teacher, which meant that Snape had most likely achieved his goal of teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. He groaned in annoyance. On one hand, there was no doubt that Snape would be an effective teacher, on the other hand, he really didn't want that man present during his favorite subject.

The diary… He still didn't know anything about the book either. Sirius had told him that there was no point in going to Grimmauld Place now that the house was clean. And he really didn't want to tell Sirius that he wanted to dig through the Dark Arts books. His godfather was a fairly understanding man, but he didn't want to give him unnecessary worries.

Whenever there was an Order meeting, Harry went to the Weasley household, and there would be an Order member standing guard if anything amiss happened. As a result, he didn't have an opportunity to look through the various Dark Arts books, or consult with Phineas on his next action.

There was some good news, Sirius' smooth talking during the past year were finally showing off his efforts. Most people weren't content on placing their faith in a broken government and letting others take charge anymore. According to Sirius, the members affiliated with the Order of the Phoenix had grown rapidly since Voldemort's appearance in Hogsmeade. Not all of them were allowed in Order Meetings, but they had some contact with Dumbledore, or another high-ranking member of the Order. Some of the newest members included the Diggory family, Madame Bones, and Unspeakable Bode.

However, Malfoy had managed to retain his position as Minister of Magic by a series of political schemes. Following the incident, he rapidly sent out flyers on how people could protect themselves from Death Eaters, and assembled a task force of Aurors and Hit Wizards to protect the community. It was an act of course, being that Malfoy himself was one of Voldemort's followers, but it was effective nonetheless. For a vast majority of the Wizarding World it appeared that Malfoy was taking appropriate steps in order to fight back.

Those who knew better were taking their own actions. It seemed odd that Malfoy was still Minister; Harry thought that Dumbledore would have the man replaced. But as the old saying goes, keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer. Perhaps Dumbledore was allowing Malfoy to maintain his post so he could be aware of the man's actions.

Keep your enemies closer… now that was a thought. Harry chewed at his lip as a new idea came to his mind. Then he walked over to his desk, withdrew a sheet of parchment and began to plan.

* * *

Harry looked at the gravestones in front of him.

James Potter Lily Potter

_The last enemy that will be defeated is death._

He shuffled his feet, feeling a bit uncomfortable in the heat and silence. Sirius had suggested making a visit here in Godric's Hallow to visit his parent's final resting place. It was an unexpected suggestion and Harry had found himself replying in agreement for lack of any other answer. The truth was that he had no interest in visiting but it would have been churlish of him to say no. So he stood next to Sirius under the hot, August sun listening to Sirius's voice as he spoke to the gravestones. It was a strange thought that his parent's remains were just a small distance from underneath his feet.

He failed to see the comfort in talking to a stone slab.

They started to walk away from the graveyard, and Harry caught sight of two figures, one of them shorter, female, and familiar. He nudged Sirius with his elbow and pointed to them.

"I think that's Luna and her father over there."

"The Lovegoods? I suppose we should go say hello. I've only met Xeno once, around May."

The father and daughter became larger as they crossed the graveyard. Harry had never met Luna's father, but it didn't take long for him to realize that he was as eccentric as Luna. Xeno's manner of holding himself was strange, as if he was incapable of standing still. His eyes also held the slightly dreamy quality that was found in Luna. Harry's schoolmate sat cross-legged on the grass, shaded by a fuchsia umbrella. She waved a branch of leaves at him in greeting.

"What are you doing here?" Sirius asked, after saying the traditional hellos.

"Today is the reunion!" Luna's father continued when Harry and Sirius failed to react. "It is the day that all of the Quester's of the Deathly Hallows come together to meet." Harry looked around the deserted graveyard. Xeno frowned at Harry's expression of disbelief. "Well, the Quest has gone poorly in recent years, the disappearance of the wand has made it difficult for people to believe."

Sirius gave a small cough, and then gave a tight smile. "What quest are you talking about? I haven't heard of this."

Xeno's eyes bulged out of his face. "You've never heard of the Quest of the Deathly Hallows! Well then! I would be thrilled to share the information with you! One can always use more help in search of the elusive items. After all, it is the journey of discovery that is most delightful; the items themselves are merely an added bonus. Tell me, have you heard of The Tale of the Three Brothers?"

Harry and Sirius nodded and Xeno began to explain the story of the three items that could make a person the Master of Death. Harry's hands began to shake when he realized that this story might be the very one that Dream had told him of. The right elements were there; it was a story of immortality, greed, and Death.

"But how come I haven't heard of this before?" Harry asked incredulously. "I love these sort of myths, I bought lots of books about these sort of things. I know it wasn't in _The Tales of Beedle the Bard_!"

Luna smiled serenely at Harry. "Beedle added this part of the story when he told the stories. But the people who printed the book didn't feel like adding it. It is only told by word of mouth now and most people don't know there is more to the story."

"That is correct my Luna! For all of those who do know, we gather on the Eighth of August at the gravestone of Ignotus Peverell, bringing with us representations of the Hallows."

"I have the Elder wand," said Luna, waving the tree branch once more.

"I have the Resurrection Stone," said Xeno as he held a triangular pebble. "And over there is the Invisibility Cloak." Harry looked at the patch of green grass Xeno pointed out.

"I don't see anything there," replied Sirius, his eyes scanning the graveyard.

Xeno gave him a chastising look. "_It's Invisible_."

"Ah. My apologies," said Sirius. Harry coughed in his hand to hide his laughter.

They left a few minutes later, waving cheerily with broad smiles. But Sirius and Harry turned solemn when they turned their backs; very aware of that Harry's own Invisibility Cloak matched the qualities of the one in the story.

Sirius poured Harry a glass of water when they arrived back to Hogsmeade, and they sat at the kitchen table in silence. It was only after Sirius finished his glass did he speak.

"Do you think the story is real?"

Harry licked his lips, all too aware of his sweaty hands, and reached for his untouched glass of water. There was so much he could say in reply. He knew it was true. This had to be the story that Dream was referring to. Voldemort would have investigated the concept of becoming the Master of Death, if he knew it was possible. By having the most important part of the story only through word of mouth, it was safe. There was no way he would have bothered to investigate.

And Harry was just beginning to wrap his head around his Invisibility Cloak being special. THE Invisibility Cloak.

"You think it's real!" Sirius exclaimed.

"What? I didn't say that!" Harry said.

Sirius snorted and raised an eyebrow. "You didn't deny fast enough. And I think it's real too. Your Cloak is a family heirloom, and I never thought it was strange until I heard this story. Master of Death…I bet Voldemort would love that."

"Yes, I think he would," Harry agreed.

They spoke no more.

* * *

The next few days passed in a daze. Harry was giddy that he had learned the secret to Voldemort's defeat, and it wasn't Dumbledore's poorly thought out idea of Love.

But when Harry actually sat down to reread The Tale of the Three Brothers, he began to be aware of something amiss. He had forgotten that the story wasn't about avoiding Death; it was about accepting it. The first brother had an incredibly amount of pride, and the most powerful wand in the world brought about his death. The Resurrection Stone dragged the second brother's soul down with grief. His wife had moved on, and so he joined her. But the third brother had chosen his time of Death.

These thoughts happened to match up with Harry's own understanding of the universe and of the Endless. So what did that mean for him? Was he on the right path to destroy Voldemort, or did he actually need the items in order to gain some power? Not to mention he would have to gather the items. The Peverell angle had been gone over by the hundred of Questers, Harry thought it would be unlikely that he would discover anything new. He would have to continue on with his current methods and constrain himself to the morals threaded in the story.

But if the Deathly Hallows conveniently fell into his lap, well, he wouldn't complain.

* * *

They arrived early for Harry's meeting with Malfoy at The Three Broomsticks. Harry had laughed at the initial request, but Sirius had encouraged it. He believed it would be a good way to gather information, pointing out that Malfoy would be less cautious with a student than an Order member. Harry was surprised, he didn't think that Sirius would allow him to take that sort of risk. When asked, Sirius responded that he was confident that he would be near if Harry needed him. So they arranged a meeting, Sirius had checked the private room for any enchantments, and declared it safe.

He left the room when Malfoy arrived, giving the man a polite nod.

"Harry Potter, on behalf of the Ministry of Magic I have come to make a plea for your assistance. As you know, the Dark Lord's return has caused people to panic. Your presence at the Ministry would do a great deal for morale."

"What would you like me to do Minister?" asked Harry, following Malfoy's lead.

"Visiting the Ministry so people can see you are taking an active role. Perhaps it would inspire them to take actions of their own. We could make allowances for you, perhaps revoking the Underage Decree for you. Allowing you to receive your Apparition license early."

"Nope, I'm afraid that isn't an option. That would mean you could monitor me at all times. And what would happen if the Ministry was infiltrated with Death Eaters and someone tried to attack me? Not only would that be bad for morale, I don't think I would like it very much." Malfoy's face turned pink. "Are we done yet? Or do you want to continue on with this act?" asked Harry.

"The Dark Lord would not be amused by your cheek, and you should mind your tongue, you are in a sticky situation, Potter"

"So are you."

"I don't know what you are talking about," replied Malfoy.

"I thought it was obvious. Most of his loyal followers are out of Azkaban, so the Dark Lord doesn't need you anymore. He couldn't be too picky before, with some of them dead, and most of them idiots, but that's changed. You're _expendable_. And let's face it, as Minister of Magic there will be great expectations of you to make certain that everything goes perfectly."

"And your point, Potter?"

"I can help you with that." Harry withdrew a list from his pocket and set it on a table in the middle of the room. "This is a list that contains some of the things you need to do in order to gain the Dark Lord's favor."

Malfoy gave a derisive chuckle. "And why would you do that? I highly doubt you are changing sides."

"Well, it's not so much for your behalf than mine. You are going to be my spy."

"Oh?"

"Yes. I would like to win this war once and for all. And I have determined that the best way to do it would be to eradicate the ideals that brought it about in the first place. And to do that, I need most of the populations to hate the old way. I would like to survive it without too many deaths, so I need a way to defend myself. If I know what will happen, I can defend for those sorts of attacks before they occur. And that's where you come in."

Malfoy walked over to the table and picked up the sheet. "And what makes you think that I will follow these little instructions of yours? I could tell the Dark Lord of your plan."

Harry gave a dark laugh. "You don't get it, you don't have a choice. I go to school with your son and for the longest time all I heard was, 'my father this' and 'my father that.' He adores you. Mix together a large amount of pride and a family name and that is a Malfoy. Sooner or later the expectations are going to rise, and you _will_ fail. I know the Dark Lord. You might die, or he might go after your son, it depends on which is more appropriate." Harry watched Malfoy's face grow pale. "I know how he thinks, and I'm giving you the keys that will get you back in his good graces."

"You do not understand the Dark Lord!"

"I got him to reveal himself in Hogsmeade didn't I? The Dark Lord may be the most powerful and clever wizard that ever lived, but he has a major flaw. He lacks imagination, and that makes him predictable. So I'm predicting. It works out well for the both of us. I know what happens and you get to live."

"I don't think so, Potter. But I'm certain that this conversation will be very intriguing to him. There is no doubt he will find your claims to manipulate him amusing, as well as your ego. The true Potter reveals himself, a self-involved brat with lofty goals and a careless attitude." There was a gleam of confidence in Malfoy's eyes.

"So you are not going to take my word for it? That's too bad. My plans really do hinge on knowing what you're going to do next. But if you don't believe me, I'll have to prove it to you."

"And how will you do that, Potter?" Malfoy asked in puzzlement.

Harry gave him a fake smile. "I can make him hurt you if I want him to." Malfoy's eyes hardened at Harry's threat. "Oh, I don't think he'll kill you right now, it's a bit too early for that. But I suggest brewing some potions for your throat. Tomorrow you'll be doing an awful lot of screaming."

Malfoy gave him a cold look. "I don't think so, and it is clear that this conversation is over."

Harry watched the man leave, and then gave a loud sigh of relief. For the most part, the Umbridge experiment was a success and Harry had begun to plan how he would apply it. But there was a problem. While he broadly knew how Voldemort would react, he was uncertain of everyone else, especially the Death Eater Ministry. His conversation with Malfoy was an action to curtail any unexpected actions in the future. And while Malfoy's resistance was disappointing, it was not unexpected. That family had too much pride and as a result they managed to dig themselves in a considerable amount of trouble. Harry took a sip from his butterbeer and waited for his next visitor.

It was almost time now.

Harry heard the door unlock and Madam Rosemerta appeared in the doorway. "There's someone asking for you Harry. A woman by the name of Elphaba Thwarp."

"Oh yeah, I was expecting her!"

The woman stepped forward at the sound of her name. "Hello, Mr. Potter. I must admit, _The Daily Prophet_ was extremely surprised when you offered to give us an interview."

Harry shrugged. "I thought that people would like to hear from me after all of that nasty business last year. Sometimes a good story is all that is needed to give people a bit of hope. Maybe some of my words might inspire them against the gathering darkness."

Elphaba frowned. "That sort of story isn't very good idea right now. People are tired of hearing about bad news. In this social climate people want to keep their minds off of things. We need to do something with a bit more cheer. For instance, which is your favorite Quidditch Team?"

"Oh you don't want to hear about that. You can get that any time from any person that you want. I've got lots of great one-of-a-kind stories right here." Harry tapped the side of his head. "For instance, did I ever tell you how I discovered the Chamber of Secrets?"

Elphaba's eyes widened comically and she snatched a quill from her bag and poised it over a piece of parchment. "No, it's a mystery. Dumbledore only told us that a few school children had discovered the truth by asking a ghost. The public would love to hear about that! Please continue, Mr. Potter," she said sweetly.

"It was a matter of luck. I was only twelve at the time, but I managed to close the doors on one of Hogwarts' greatest secrets. I guess that proves that even the least of us can make a real difference." Harry gave her a false smile, the same one he gave to Malfoy twenty minutes earlier.

"You see, there was the small, black diary…" he began. Harry watched the reporter's body language as he wove his story, her body leaned forward in her chair, she rarely blinked, and the quill was motionless in her hand. Harry continued to talk smoothly; it was a tale of luck, investigation, and perseverance. It was a true story, although Harry embellished some aspects and omitted others. For instance, he heightened Myrtle's importance and the tragedy of Hagrid's expulsions. He failed to mention that the diary was enchanted to contain memories, and not written in words like a normal book. After he finished, Harry gave Elphaba a small smile and asked her if she was going to take notes. She shook her head and gave a small laugh, and jotted down some key phrases.

When he shook her hand as they said goodbye, he noticed the change in her attitude. The woman who had entered The Three Broomsticks was a wary woman, depressed and oppressed. But now she left with a bit of hope and he knew that she would work enthusiastically on the interview for the next day.

People would pull _The Daily Prophet_ towards them as they drank their juice the next morning, and they would leave for work with new hope. They would search for their own moment in which they could fight back the darkness.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The photograph of the boy mocked him, the scar on his forehead visible between locks of hair. He did not wave or laugh, but gazed out with confidence and a reserved smile. Voldemort's hand tightened around the armrest of his chair. He was alone in the room, and so he remained silent, his anger apparent only in his rapid breathing. _How he loathed that boy…._

It had been tempting to kill Potter when he was a first year, but he did not want to take that risk. And Voldemort knew his satisfaction would be greater when he caused the boy's death with a wand in his hand. So Potter lived, and during the few times Voldemort observed him in class, the more he was unimpressed. The boy was astonishingly mediocre, his assignments sloppy, his wand work tepid. He lacked his parent's talent and enthusiasm, content to sit in the corner and daydream or meeting his Gryffindor friend. It was insulting that the child had caused his downfall, but it was reassuring that he could eradicate Potter later without any trouble. But when he had made his move towards the Philosopher's Stone, that three-headed guard dog stopped him and Quirrell. During the three years that followed, he believed Snape was the one that cut the strings of the harp, that his old servant had turned spy. However, but Snape did not admit to causing the man's death and did not even know that Voldemort had been present.

It was a question that Voldemort had not pursued; he was far more concerned with the future now that he was in possession of his body once more. However, he was still weak. The ritual was extremely effective, but the many years he had been separate from his body made him easily tired and he needed time.

Rather than taking a direct approach, he suggested that Lucius take the post as Minister, and set his sights on the prophecy. His attempt to seize it with Nagini was a failure, but he discovered the connection between he and Potter, and recognized it as a way to use Potter to fetch it for him. Snape informed him that the boy had some control of Occlumency, but did not want to use it. He also informed the Death Eaters that the boy appeared to be involved in a school wide rebellion.

While the rest of his followers chuckled at the news of Potter's actions, Voldemort was all too aware of his own beginnings. Avery was the lone survivor from his time at Hogwarts, most of his first Death Eater's were killed during his rise to power, but it was were he found his true self. He portrayed himself as a model student, even while causing the death of a fellow schoolmate and after he killed his Muggle father.

Voldemort's rose from his chair and walked across the room, staring intently at the photograph of Walden MacNair placed on the wall. He had stayed in the man's home after MacNair's death, the surrounding were comfortable, and the protective charms adequate. The deaths of Nott, MacNair, and Warrington were blood on Potter's hands, yet Voldemort heard no rumors of guilt infused tirades. He recalled when he saw Potter the year before, initially the boy had quaked with fear. But after the wands connected he was determined, and showed no remorse in causing destruction.(He had not pursued the mystery of the wands either, because that implied the boy would duel him. That he was **equal**.)

When Lucius informed him of Umbridge's death, he delayed his plans to retrieve his followers from Azkaban. That was when uneasiness began to grow in Voldemort.

He could see the wide-eyed expression on the boy's face as he handed over the book, the key to passing the guard dog.

_"I understand, sir," said Potter, a flush of embarrassment on his cheeks as he ducked his head to the ground._

At first, he believed his discovery was luck, but now he was not certain. Umbridge's death appeared to be an accident, another teacher that fell the curse of the Defense post. But Voldemort had cast the spell and he knew that it was impossible for it to cause death without outside interference. The severity of the curse was light in order to ensure its longevity. Someone was causing the deaths, and Voldemort had begun to suspect Potter.

He paced the room once more as he recalled the jerking sensation of the Portkey. _At last_, he thought, _the prophecy was in his hands._ Next, he was in Hogsmeade, fighting Sirius Black, enraged that his anonymity was destroyed in front of an entire village. The prophecy had been taken before he arrived. (He had not admitted to himself that he had been manipulated. Because that would mean that the boy had bested him. That he was **better.**)

Potter did not have twenty years to slowly gain power, but it was disturbing to see him taking a path that echoed his own.

"_Sir, I wondered what you know about…" Tom paused, betraying his hesitance on purpose, "about Horcruxes." _

He glanced at the article once more, seeing the five words that enraged him.

**There was a black diary…**

His followers had failed to mention the Chamber of Secret's being discovered. His brief glance of the article mentioned that Potter had tossed the book in a bin somewhere, lost to all. It was impossible for the boy to know that it was a key to his immortality. But it also meant that Voldemort was not aware of where the book was located.

And he had also found the old Black house-elf alive the previous year. He knew that Regulus Black had shown some doubt towards the end of his life; perhaps he sacrificed himself for the house-elf? (He had not questioned the elf, which implied he **needed **it.)

After killing the elf, Voldemort checked the location of his Horcruxes. He had checked the diadem during the time he was in possession of Quirrell's body, and he knew it was intact. The locket was in the cave, he viewed it by turning the toxic potion clear, rather than removing it. The ring was still in the fireplace of the old Gaunt home, the flesh-eating spells in place. He believed that Lucius would take great care with the book, but he had overestimated the man. It was more proof that one could not place confidence in others. It was a foolish choice. He would have to inquire on the cup the next time he saw the Lestranges. He was confident that no one had broken into Gringotts.

There was a knock at the door.

"Enter," he said.

Narcissa Malfoy entered the room, keeping her head low in reverence.

"My lord, I have brought the things you required. Is there anything else you wish before I leave?"

Voldemort looked at the clock, astonished that it was already past one o'clock. He had lost track of the morning, had paced the room in a circle as he thought of the boy. And yet, he was no closer to the answers that he sought. There was no proof that the Potter was more than lucky, or that he was responsible for the deaths.

But the boy was a Slytherin.

(He would admit that, and only that.)

Voldemort observed the woman before him. She had little of her other sister's talent and spirit, choosing a demure and comfortable life with her family.

**There was a black diary…**

"When Lucius arrives from the Ministry tonight, tell him I wish to speak to him."

Narcissa nodded obediently, her body shaking slightly as she left the room.

Lucius' carelessness had lost Voldemort a piece of his soul. He would never do such a thing again.

* * *

**Next chapter:** Three Hallows United, yet Divided


	43. Three Hallows United, yet Divided

**Chapter Forty**

**Three Hallows United, yet Divided**

_**And forewarned is seldom forearmed. Not even in the shifting zones.**_

Dream in _Fables and Reflections_

_

* * *

  
_

Harry was dozing in the train when Ernie slammed the door open. He opened one eye, and closed it once more when he saw his friend.

"What did you get on your OWLs?" Ernie asked excitedly, as he sat down on the seat across form him, followed by Justin and Anthony.

"I'm sleeping." Harry responded tiredly. Why did Sirius let him drink last night? Wasn't the man supposed to discourage that sort of behavior?

"You were sleeping. Now your telling us how you did on your OWLs," replied Justin.

Harry groaned. "Fine. I passed all my subjects, and I got an "O" in Defense and Charms. Now leave me alone, I want to get some sleep, or else I might fall asleep during the feast." He heard the others snicker as they left the compartment.

Mrs. Weasley would have been appalled at Sirius' lack of parenting skills, which had offered to share a bottle of Firewhiskey with him the previous night. Harry balked initially, but there was a strange look in his eyes that led Harry reach for the bottle. It wasn't quite desperation, more like nervous energy. Harry hadn't really confessed anything embarrassing when he drank; but admitted that Sirius had ended up being one of the few people he really trusted. Sirius had hit the bottle heavily and had blurted out everything that came to his mind.

"I can feel it coming, you know. It was the same thing when your parents died. I didn't feel right and I went to their house and they were dead and gone. _Poof._ Something's going to fall apart." He said this miserably, before throwing an arm over Harry's shoulder. "But it's okay. I'll be there if you need me. _I know it_."

Next year, Harry would come of age, and a drink would be celebratory and symbolic. But with Voldemort publicly out and about, there were no guarantees to how long that would last. It would have been depressing to anyone else, but Harry found Sirius' practicality oddly comforting. Harry was going to do everything possible to tear Voldemort apart. Sirius had accepted it, and had stood beside his decision. Neither knew what the next year would bring, and so they drank out of fear, trust, and with promises on their lips.

Unfortunately, Harry was paying for it now, as he heard several students pass him by to stare at him through the compartment window.

"Quit blocking the hallway!" He heard Seamus' voice through the door. Harry gave a smirk before he fell asleep.

Ernie rudely interrupted his nap once more later. He held up his hands in protest when Harry gave him a glare. "I know, but Slughorn was insistent that I would give you this message." He held out a small scroll in his hands.

Harry sat up and opened the note, which invited him to lunch at one. He sighed and made his way down the train, searching for Slughorn. He knocked on the compartment when he found it.

"Harry, you are early!" His eyes flicked down to notice the color of Harry's tie. "You didn't tell me you were in Slytherin!"

Harry ignored the others who turned to look at him. "I thought you would like a surprise, sir. I wanted to tell you, in person that I can't attend this afternoon's meeting. I'm a bit tired, I was talking with Sirius late last night, and all I really want to do is get some sleep."

Slughorn looked at him shrewdly, and Harry thought the man had seen a few too many drinks of his own to not recognize the symptoms in Harry. "Ah, I see. Well, thank you for telling me. Although I hope that you will take the invitation at a later time?"

Harry politely accepted before leaving. Thank goodness Slughorn wasn't offended, he really wasn't in the mood to fake politeness today.

He sat with Daphne and Blaise at the Slytherin table as the first-years were being sorted. Had it really been five years since he had been at that spot? God, sometimes he felt old.

It wasn't until the feast was finished that he noticed Dumbledore's right hand, which was heavily wrapped in bandages. It had not been like that, when the man came to pick him up from the Dursley's over the summer. But it had to be terrible injury; Harry had a hard time believing that Dumbledore would risk causing a panic at this crucial time. Wondering what happened, Harry stood up with the rest of the Slytherins to head back down the Common Room after the feast.

* * *

Harry chose to enroll in Transfiguration, Charms, Defense, Arithmacy, and Potions. All of the teachers explained that they enforced silent spellcasting in NEWT classes, and there was a great deal of difficulty in not casting the spell with at least a bit of a mumble. Harry bit on his lip to keep his mouth shut, unwilling to compromise his spellwork. As usual, Hermione was the first one to succeed, followed closely by some of the Ravenclaws, Harry's results were half-successful, more than many of his fellow classmates. He was confident that he would be able to perform the spells with ease by the end of the year.

He was on his way to lunch when Draco approached him.

"Potter," Draco mumbled. "My father says yes." He looked tired, there were bags under his eyes, and his hair was a bit disheveled, unlike his normal perfection. Harry gave a nod before he shrugged and walked away. Draco's business wasn't really important to him, if he wanted to look a mess that was his own fault. He cared about the elder Malfoy, who agreed to give him a bit of respect. Harry smiled as he served his food, he wouldn't have to worry about any major issues unless they came directly from Voldemort. He was reasonably certain that he could handle those.

* * *

Harry walked into the classroom, smelling some odd odors from the potions that bubbled at the front of the classroom. Blaise made a beeline for a shimmering potion, one that smelled like peaches.

"Who can tell me which potion this is?" Slughorn asked of his new students. Half of the class turned to Hermione as she raised her hand swiftly, a few of them snickering. Harry listened as Hermione identified each potion, a sense of dread growing inside of him. He had noticed a pattern in these potions, which he supposed was due to the fact he was in more advanced classes.

Amortensia, a strong love potion that threw out reason.

Polyjuice, which turned you into whoever you wanted.

Veritaserum, which told you the answers to any question asked.

And the final potion, Felix Felicis, the lucky potion. It was bottled luck, but Harry could see the truth reflected in the golden potion, the exact hue of Desire's eyes. Felix gave you everything you **wanted.**

Harry felt strangely suffocated in the warm room. There weren't nearly as many students in the class as there were before. And Slughorn wasn't a very intimidating figure. But Harry supposed it had everything to do with his knowledge of the Endless and human nature that made him so hesitant. He knew people, their instincts, inhibitions, and how their mind worked. These potions were a key to give people their most basic desires.

Perhaps Desire hadn't had a hand in this, and it was only a clever witch or wizard that had craft the spell. But there was a risk into giving into your desires. Harry had used the Polyjuice Potion last year, and Crouch and MacNair had used it the year before. Harry had killed the person he had imitated, Crouch was Kisssed, and MacNair was dead.

Veritaserum told the unvarnished truth, if the victim was weak enough that they couldn't resist. The truth could hurt and sting.

Harry didn't even try to argue with Amortensia's danger. The rest of his classmates were amused by the idea, but Harry found the idea of forced love revolting. Harry could smell peaches, and the faint smell of a just lit cigarette. The potion was right in front of him, the steam rising in a distinctive shape. Hermione called them spirals, but Harry could see the broken hearts rising.

Slughorn described the danger in using Felix repeatedly, causing a person to loose judgment and reason. People would follow their hearts, gain their desires, and they would think it luck.

He then gave them a task, to create an antidote to a poison. Everyone else headed straight for the cupboard, keen to earn the distinctive gold bottle Slughorn was offering as a prize. But Harry simply sat in his chair, chilled by his revelation.

Desire was everywhere.

If he had really thought about it, it would not have come to such a shock. But he had been keen to avoid anything with wanting and love ever since the incident with the Mirror of Erised. And then when he realized that he couldn't survive without it, he gave up just a bit of himself in order to stay afloat of the darkness inside of him. However, since Dumbledore's discussion with him at the end of last year he was constantly noticing its presence.

He could see that Slughorn was giving him a strange look, and so Harry pulled out one of his notebooks, determined to at least make himself look occupied. As he thumbed through his text, he casually noticed his classmates' reactions. Ernie was working feverishly, hoping to impress the new teacher with some spectacular display, even though he wouldn't likely succeed. Terry and Anthony were working together, perhaps hoping that two decent potions would be an acceptable for one good one.

Blaise was working with precise movements, confident in his actions, never raising his eyes to stare at the little bottle on Slughorn's desk. Hermione had several different items before her, giving glances to Blaise every once in a while to see if he was ahead of her. Theo Nott seemed resigned that he would not win the potion, but was content with displaying a potion that he would not be ashamed of. And Draco's movements were shaky, it was clear that he wanted the little bottle, possibly more than anyone else.

Harry stared at the pages of his textbook, aware that his classmates didn't know about the dangers of the little bottle. While he didn't begrudge anyone having their desires fulfilled for a day, these things had a tendency to spiral out of control and affect other people as well. And in the wrong hands, Felix could be very dangerous. He was glad that most people weren't good enough to brew this potion. It didn't take much to destroy people, if Slughorn had only taken it a few times in his entire lifetime.

Moderation was the key, and that was the balance he was trying to reach with the Endless. There was likelihood that the people around him hadn't learned of that yet, or would waste the opportunity to do something important. He looked at the page in his notebook under the letter "B," and read the description of the bezoar. Although he wasn't entirely certain if the potion was dangerous as he thought, he didn't like the idea of leaving it with anyone else.

Perhaps he could use a little luck.

And so he pulled out his Transfiguration text and began to work on his assignment for the next day. Slughorn gave him a curious look, but said nothing. Right before the time was up, Harry went to the cupboard, withdrew the bezoar from the cabinet and walked back to his seat. When the time was up, Slughorn went to inspect everyone's potion. He seemed particularly impressed with Hermione's work, much to Blaise's annoyance.

"I worked on a potion that would be completed on time, she just threw a bunch of things in the cauldron. That thing would have required three more weeks before it was done!" He said as Harry snickered.

"And what were you doing, Harry as your fellow classmates worked so hard?" Slughorn asked as he twisted Harry textbook around.

"Transfiguration, sir. I was finished early, you see." He heard Blaise kick his chair leg in annoyance.

"Oh. May I see it?" Harry nodded, and proudly removed the bezoar from his pocket.

Slughorn laughed as Harry's cleverness, and Harry felt like he knew exactly how to handle the man from here on out. The tiny golden bottle was in his pocket by the end of the lesson.

* * *

"What did you do to him?" demanded Theo.

Harry looked up from his Charms homework. "Eh?"

"What did you do to Draco? He used to have pride. He certainly liked to boast about things, but I haven't heard a word from him like that since we came back to Hogwarts. Now I hear he's going to quit the Quidditch team. He's moping about like another one of your lapdogs."

"I've barely spoken to Draco this year," Harry commented as he erased a sentence on his parchment. "If I were to hazard a guess, I think that he's finally learned a lesson on the finer qualities of Dark Lords. Although "finer" is a word subject to interpretation."

Theo's expression did not change as he slid in the seat across from Harry. "You killed my grandfather." He said this in a matter-of-fact tone, his eyes narrowed as he waited for Harry's reaction.

Harry sighed. He had been lucky all of last year, and the subject had never been asked to his line of questioning. At least, he didn't think so, but then again he wasn't entirely lucid last year either. "Your grandfather was in an unfortunate accident due to his close proximity to fire, explosives, and a Dark Lord. It wasn't personal, and I might have tried to save his life if he wasn't trying to kill me. You, on the other hand, should take that as a lesson in accountability. Sometimes your actions can hurt unintended parties, so make your choices carefully."

"Don't talk about my grandfather like he was some sort of idiot," Theo replied.

"I was making a bland statement that could apply to anyone. Your grandfather helped a maniac rise to power, and in the presence of the Dark Lord he was little more than a trained monkey. He made his decision, and eventually you will make yours."

"And what decision will you make Potter?"

Harry rose from his seat, "I don't know yet, but I'll know it when I see it."

* * *

Harry said the password to The Headmaster's office, and went up the stairs to his first private meeting with Dumbledore. He was a bit nervous; uncertain on the precise reason he was called up.

"Come in, Harry."

He opened the door and stepped into the room, and glanced at the portraits of the past Headmasters. Most of them were snoring, but he saw Phineas open an eye in curiosity, only to snap it back shut when he saw Harry looking at him. Dumbledore was sitting behind a desk, and there was a large bowl placed in front of him. Harry sat at the seat across from him, and Dumbledore observed him in silence before finally speaking, tapping the bowl in front of him with his wand.

"This is called a Pensieve. I sometimes find, and I am sure you know the feeling, that I simply have too many thoughts and memories crammed into my mind." Harry nodded in understanding, thinking of the incident at St. Mungo's last Christmas. "One simply siphons the excess thoughts from one's mind, pours them into the basin, and examines them at one's leisure."

Harry looked at the liquid at the bowl, reflecting the light back at him. "You leave your thoughts in the bowl so that anyone could examine them?" he asked in horror.

"The thoughts can be returned when one is done observing them, but yes, that is a possibility."

He continued to look at Harry with a grave face, the usual glint of joy absent from his eye.

"When we spoke a few months ago, you told me that you believed that it was inevitable that you are involved in this. Do you still believe that?" Harry nodded. "And what do you know of him?"

Harry hesitated. Did he dare tell the truth, that he was quite possibly the person who understood him the most? That he had nearly lost all sense of reason, all understanding of others that he was on the same path as Voldemort? And the only reason he had begun to change was because of the guardian he did not truly know and Desire's own interference? That sort of information was private and a bit humiliating, and Harry wasn't willing to tell that to a man he barely knew, leader of the Wizengamot or not. So he told only part of the truth.

"I know what I've read in the books, what Sirius has told me. He brought lies, terror, and controlled others with his power. And if he gets a hold of his power once more, it will be almost impossible to stop him."

"Ah, so you have been doing some of your own investigating into the past. That is good news indeed. In fact, I have done the same thing myself in the past, and now I wish to impart some of that knowledge to you." He raised a glass vial, in which a silver memory reflected the light.

"Why?" Harry asked in awe, not understanding Dumbledore's openness.

"As you have said, Voldemort is quite irritated with your continued existence. In fact, the prophecy that Voldemort sought mentions that very same belief." He raised his hand as Harry began to speak. "I know you do not wish to hear the contents of it, but I will be brief. You know the public is quite fond of you Harry. I read your interview in The Daily Prophet over the summer, and I found the story a bit embellished. However, when I arrived at the Ministry that day I found people in better spirits. You gave them hope. I assume that was your original intention?" Harry nodded, shoving the idea of Malfoy's torture to the back of his mind.

"People have begun to talk of you now in whispers, _The Chosen One_. They are not aware of the prophecy, but the idea has arisen in their head because of your past confrontations against Voldemort. However, this thought is not carried by a majority of the populace. They view you as an example of what must be done, and they draw strength from each other, the rumors of your destiny have been brushed aside.

"The prophecy does say that you will have the ability to defeat Voldemort. But the prophecy does not mention you by name, but rather by a series of vague descriptions that applied to more than one person. The thing that makes the prophecy true is Voldemort's belief that it is true, which will give you the opportunity to his defeat." Harry's neck prickled, he was aware of Dream's hand in the matter, that belief and ideas shape reality

"His determination to attack you, and your equal need to stop him makes it a very likely possibility that one of you will finish the other. This is something you are already aware of, but I say this plainly so you understand why I have asked you up here. We must delve into the Lord Voldemort's past so we can discover and understand the man who stands against us."

"To know others is to be wise," Harry replied, one of the Lessons leaving his lips before he had begun to process Dumbledore's statement.

"Precisely. I have spent some time searching for the memories of those who once knew him. A tedious task because many are unwilling, out of fear. However, I have managed to procure some of these memories, and as we explore them, I hope that you will understand Voldemort's greatest flaw."

"I thought you said it was Love," Harry replied in a dry tone, unable to keep the contempt from his voice.

Dumbledore's mouth twitched into a smile. "Yes, I did. Knowing his weakness is not the same as understanding, something you have not quite reached yet. And it is something that I hope to impart to you when we are finished at the end of the year. You may proceed into this memory with me, Harry.

Harry and Dumbledore watched the memory in the Penseive, and saw the Gaunt family. He wasn't very interested in the Gaunts, at first. They were dirty, and crass, and had clear signs of being inbred. His interest wasn't peaked until the father approached the Ministry wizard to show him the ring in his hand.

"Know how much I've been offered for this, with the Peverell coat of arms engraved on the stone?" said Marvolo. Harry stiffened, recognizing the name immediately. Stepping forward, he noticed the ring on his hand, a large black stone, with an engraving of the sign of the Deathly Hallows.

He tried to speak, but his tongue was so dry it stuck to the roof of his mouth. He shoved the thought to the back of his head, and began to pay keen attention to the scene in front of him once more. Decedents of Salazar Slytherin… the Riddle Family… the accent to the words that sounded like hissing…

He thought that Dumbledore was going to show him the keys to Voldemort's past, but he didn't think the man would be so thorough. At any moment he expected a young boy to come with a smile and a lie. He didn't think that Dumbledore would have gone so far as to retrieve a memory that occurred before Voldemort was born.

A small measure of his respect for Dumbledore grew.

When the memory was over, they landed back in the room. Harry flopped back in the chair, exhausted with the importance of the information presented in front of him. Dumbledore seemed to understand his confusion and waited for Harry to speak up first.

"They were speaking Parseltongue, and I have heard of Riddle before. Does that mean they were Voldemort's family?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, Marvolo was his grandfather, Merope the mother, and the young man was Riddle's father."

"I doubt that Riddle was in love with Merope, she wasn't the prettiest thing and he seemed to having nothing but disdain for the family. I take it she forced him with magic somehow, a love potion, Imperius Curse. I don't think she could have blackmailed him somehow; she didn't seem to have much personality. Like she was held back her whole life by an ignorant father." Harry tapped his fingers on the armchair absentmindedly, trying to ignore Dumbledore's observant gaze. "I don't know if there's any sort of plant that effects the mind like that, I'm not in Herbology anymore. Then again, that sort of thing is probably used in a potion. Of course, I guess that's not really the point of why you showed me that."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ah, now I see how you managed to avoid trouble, you are a very patient person. You observe the information presented before you and quietly come to your conclusions. Professor Snape informed me that you had already known how to practice Occlumency last year. At the time, I believed him to be a bit… vehement with his protests, but now I see that he was speaking the truth."

"There are many reasons why I chose to show this memory to you Harry. The first reason is to demonstrate the reason that Lord Voldemort came to be raised in a Muggle Orphanage. Merope Gaunt did enchant Tom to love her, and I believed she eventually broke the spell, herself. Perhaps it was grief because it was not real, or because she hoped that the birth of her child would cause Tom to stay, I do not know. However, it was not to be and Tom eventually came back to his home in Little Hangleton. Merope was left pregnant and alone and I think you would agree that she had no one to support her."

Harry snorted.

"And so, Tom was raised in an orphanage, not knowing of his magical heritage, nor of the father who left him."

"He was better off if you ask me," Harry replied. "They weren't anything to be proud of. He had a fresh start with the Muggles, and he wouldn't have heard that Pureblood crap every day."

"And yet, Lord Voldemort chose to cling to those very beliefs as he rose to power."

Harry grimaced. "Are you trying to confuse me?"

Dumbledore smiled. "No. I wanted to demonstrate the convoluted thinking that Voldemort adheres to. He believed in the prophecy, and his actions created a person determined to stop him. He believes himself the most powerful wizard to have ever lived, and yet he follows the old beliefs that make him like every other Dark Wizard."

"It's like a circle," Harry said, looking at the ring from the vision that sat on the table on the other side of the room.

"Yes, and every circle returns to its beginning point. Which is precisely what you and I are doing."

Harry rose from his seat walked over to ring and picked up to see it better. There was a large crack in the stone, but Harry could clearly see the sign of the Deathly Hallows inscribed on it. Outwardly, he showed no reaction, aware that Dumbledore still was not very comfortable around him, not after he turned the fake prophecy into a Portkey. But Harry wanted to laugh as he had when he discovered the Chamber of Secrets with Ron and Hermione. He thought about his childhood dream to prove there was truth in stories.

Marvolo was a naïve man, he had little value for anything more than blood and sons. It was unlikely that he would have been exposed to books and stories, never mind about hearing of the story that followed his line. It was easy to see that he would have overlooked the magical importance of what was tied to his finger. Instead, Marvolo Gaunt had placed importance on a meaningless title of blood purity. Many people had longed to bring back the dead; never knowing the famed Resurrection Stone was on a ring of a half-mad family. Then again, it was a perfect sort of hiding place, in plain sight, with those who would never consider it important. The Invisibility Cloak had stayed in the exact place implied in the story, passed down from father to son, to daughter, until it was with Harry.

That left the third Hallow, the Elder Wand, lost in history to those who killed to attain it.

He twirled to stone casually around his finger, once, twice, and then Dumbledore removed it from his hands. He wondered if Dumbledore had timed it on purpose, or if it was coincidence. If he had spun the ring one more time would he have been able to raise the dead? Perhaps the stone would only work if it were removed from the ring first.

Not that it really mattered. Dumbledore had stopped him and Harry didn't know who he would raise from to dead anyway.

"So, why did you place the ring here?" He asked, not hiding his confusion.

"That is a question for another time Harry. After all, it is getting late, and I think that you would like to have some time with your friends."

Harry recognized the dismissal and left the room. And as he walked back to the Slytherin room, he thought of the Stone and the Cloak, never realizing that the Elder Wand was in Dumbledore's hand.

* * *

**A/N:** There are some major events about in the next few chapters in which I use the ideas of HP canon even as I tear it apart. I hope you are ready.

**Next Chapter:** The Fourth


	44. Ch 41 THE FOURTH

**Chapter Forty-One**

**The Fourth**

_**Because there's no such thing as a one-sided coin.**_

Destruction in _Brief Lives_

* * *

"Harry, will you stay behind for a moment?"

Blaise raised his eyebrow, and pointed at Harry's potion. "Slughorn will probably ask you how you managed to score an "E" in this class. I'm not certain that thing can be called a potion. Be certain to mention my name, and how talented I am."

Harry rolled his eyes and made his way over to Slughorn. "Yes, Professor."

"Harry, Harry, Harry." Slughorn chuckled as he held up a tar-like potion to the light. "I was wondering if you have thought further of that offer you made on the train."

Harry frowned, uncertain of what Slughorn was talking about. "Umm…"

"For you to come for a Slug Club meeting. I'm certain that you would find them extremely entertaining. I'm holding one next Friday after the classes end and I would be delighted if you could attend. I've already spoken to the house-elves and they'll be serving some dinner as well."

"Oh, that. Well, it's not that I don't want to go, but I have plans. My friends and I have a meeting that we go to on Fridays and I can't skip it because it is the first one of the year. We've doing it every year. Well, not last year, Umbridge broke us up for some lame excuse, and we had to be a little inventive."

Slughorn looked very intrigued by Harry's information. "And who attends these meetings of yours?"

Harry winced as he realized that Slughorn's interest was peaked. "All of my friends, which is pretty much all of the people in my year. Some other people stop by every once in a while if they want."

Slughorn nodded seriously at Harry's words. "Yes, I understand completely. You wouldn't mind if I stop in the next week, would you?"

Harry clenched his teeth in annoyance. The last thing he wanted was for his casual meetings turned into a political foray. So he took a deep breath and gave a serene smile. "Not at all Professor. I'm afraid you won't find them all that interesting though."

Slughorn chuckled. "Nonsense. It takes a great amount of charisma to charm such a diverse group of people. I'm fairly certain that you know that. You may go now."

There were a lot of groans when Harry explained Slughorn's future visit.

"Are you sure you can't convince him to stay away?" asked Ernie. Slughorn had not been particularly impressed with his efforts and he was still feeling a bit disappointed.

Harry shrugged. "The man's pretty stubborn. Besides he receives gifts from some of the most influential people around, I don't think I could hold him off."

"How do you know that?" asked Seamus.

Harry rolled his eyes. "His walls are covered with photos of him with people. Slughorn's not that bad if he likes you. And if he doesn't think your talented enough he'll ignored you." He heard Ernie grunt in agreement. "We will have to endure his presence. It won't take him long to realize that we don't want him around."

The next week, when the meeting was well on its way, Harry heard a knock on the door. Everyone gave each other nervous glances as Terry went to the door to open. Slughorn was there, a broad smile at his face as he entered.

"Ah, so this is the little gathering I've been hearing about." He nodded as his eyes swept across the room, noting every one present.

"Hello Professor Slughorn," Hermione called out as from her conversation with Padma and Susan. The others spoke up, giving their own greetings and nods of respect. Harry gave a wave and turned back to his conversation with Luna, aware that the man would make his way over shortly. He had made a point to invite her the previous week when he realized that Slughorn was going to stop by. There was no one quite like her to make people uncomfortable, what with her oddball thoughts. Even Harry had experienced some moments of confusion around her and he was used to oddness.

Slughorn took his time making his way to the back of the room, taking a moment to engage the various groups holding conversations. But his real aim was to make his way to the back of the room to Harry, but he was taking his time.

"He's quite obvious isn't he?" Luna asked as she twirled her hair into curls with her wand.

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, but I didn't want to be rude."

Luna smiled widely. "That's because you are nice even when you're not. Some people could learn some things about respect from you. If they did, maybe we wouldn't have to worry about the war."

"Maybe," said Harry, not certain of what Luna meant. He thought of Umbridge's death, the thud of her body against the bus, and failed to see how he was nice.

"And how are you today, Harry?" Slughorn had made his way over, after a short talk with Ron and Ernie. It was difficult to see around the corpulent man, but Harry could see Ron's ears burning bright red from embarrassment. It made sense that the man couldn't see the value in someone so average as his Gryffindor friend.

"Fine, Professor. How was the Slug Club last week?"

"It was lovely. It's nice to see such potential gathered in one room. In fact, Cormac McClaggen was telling me that you led a group of people to learn defense last year."

Harry scowled. "Cormac isn't very bright, and he wasn't invited. For one thing, he had a gigantic mouth and he's a self-centered jerk."

Slughorn raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yes." Luna nodded her head enthusiastically as she agreed with Harry. "I think he's infected with something. Maybe some sort of fungus."

Harry snorted. "Some people need to have more vegetables. Maybe they wouldn't catch so many illnesses if the had their vitamins."

"Good luck charms always help too." Luna raised her wrist to show off her bracelet. "I find my mind becomes quite clear when I wear this. Would you like one, Proffessor?" She turned towards Slughorn, an earnest look on her face. The question seemed to catch him off guard and his normal demeanor disappeared under honest confusion.

"Ah, no Miss Lovegood. That will not be necessary." With that he left the room, never noticing the snickers of the others that were listening in.

* * *

The first trip to Hogsmeade was scheduled in October. Harry went to Honeydukes and gazed at the Bertie Bott's Beans with a measure of sadness before he moved on. There was no point in buying them, now that Del was off on her own adventures. Feeling somewhat down, he headed towards the Hog's Head, waved a greeting to Abe and made his way up to the portrait of Ariana. He had gone to visit her on a couple of occasions over the summer. There was something about the girl in the portrait that tugged at his heartstrings. She was enigmatic in her silence and her knowing eyes. It was a soppy emotion and perplexing, but Harry found her presence somewhat calming. The only reason he could think of was the fact that she was a portrait. No matter what she thought of him, or the secrets he told her, she would not change. She was safe.

And so, on occasion, Harry had taken to telling her about the Endless. Speaking of them helped clear his mind so he wasn't so confused. They were large figures of myth and of the universe. He had little idea of why they were so interested in him, and sharing his confusion with someone who would keep his secrets was a relief. While he could share this information with Sirius or Dumbledore, he did not want to see their reaction. Perhaps there would be some anxiety over his mental stability. Considering it was dodgy to begin with, he didn't want people poking around on that front.

Or even worse, they would believe him, and people would attempt to meddle in his life some more and control him. Advice he would take freely, but Harry didn't need more people telling him what to do. He had that once before and that sort of prison…

Harry shuddered.

No, it was best to leave that alone. Eventually the Endless would lose interest, or perhaps he could make a deal in order to get them to leave him alone. For now, he had Ariana's understanding, and it was enough.

Perhaps he was a bit of a coward in taking that route, but he never claimed to be brave.

On this occasion, Harry chose to share with Ariana the vision he had in which he spoke to Dream and met Merv Pumpkinhead.

She clapped her hands with delight when he told her about the strange parade that passed by. And when he finished, he felt better.

When Harry went downstairs, he saw a two large men sitting in the Hog's Head. One of them he recognized instantly as Hagrid, but the other person caught his interest. Somehow, despite the fact that the half-giant occupied more space at the table, the other man seemed to tower over everyone in the room. Harry determined that it was his presence; he seemed to be a very large character that could capture everyone's attention. Hagrid and the man were laughing loudly, their voices booming over the rest of the dour patrons. Amused, Harry went out the door of the pub, nearly tripping on the dog sitting outside.

"Sorry," he apologized to the dog. He had not even made it around the building when he bumped into Cedric. "What are you doing here?"

"I… uh…." Cedric's eyes darted back and forth guiltily. "Well, I was looking for Katie Bell, but I couldn't find her. Have you seen her?"

Harry snorted with Cedric's admission. "You said you weren't going to have a girlfriend right now. Something about a war being a liability for relationships."

"I know, I know. But she's cute! I don't want her to have a boyfriend and find out I never have a chance because I was too busy."

"Well, I haven't seen her around, but if I do, I'll let her know. I don't know why you don't just send her an owl."

Cedric beamed. "Thanks, that's really great of you to offer."

Harry shook his head; unsurprised that Cedric had changed his mind. He might be a decent friend, but he had a soft heart. "That's alright. Listen I need to talk to you about something."

Cedric's face turned serious and he looked over his shoulder before he leaned in. "What?"

"I was thinking about something, but I don't know if you have the time." Harry knew that Cedric had been spending quite a bit of time with Sirius, Fred, and George. He had to be doing something that involved the war, but he hadn't been curious enough to find out.

"No, the only thing I'm doing right now is working with Fred and George. I'm responsible for keeping their Defense items in line. Making them, delivery, and ensuring that they are being bought by people who need them. You'd be astonished how many people don't know how to cast a Shield Charm. I show them how, sell them a hat, and remind them that they should learn how to cast it properly so they can protect other people as well. It's a public service announcement that makes a great deal of gold."

"Well that goes well with what I wanted to talk to you about. I've been having the feeling that people need to learn the Patronus Charm. Everyone knows that the Dark Lord broke his followers out of Azkaban. Can you imagine what it would be like if he managed to control the dementors as well?"

Cedric looked grim. "My father mentioned something about it the other day. He was quite pleased to find out I already knew the spell. I suppose that I should start to mention it when I see people."

"Yeah, but be careful. I don't want you to be a target. Enemies won't be too pleased to find out you are teaching others."

"Okay, I will. There's a way I can get the word out on it quick." Cedric looked at his watch. "Listen I got to go. Say hello to Katie for me?" Cedric's face turned foolish again as he waved goodbye.

Harry looked at the spot where Cedric Disapparated with relief. He had given a bit of a lie to Cedric. Malfoy had contacted him that morning by through a small, enchanted coin, using the same method the defense group used. Harry recommended having all the dementors swarm in one place, preferably a wizard village, to create a sizable amount of panic. He knew that Sirius had been teaching people, but he figured having another person involved couldn't hurt. Malfoy's choice to use one of the items on the list so early in the game was alarming. Harry had believed that it would be a few more months before the man would break down.

The dog on the other side of the building gave a whine.

"What?" Harry asked. He could have sworn the dog was trying to talk to him, based on its body language. The dog wagged its tail rapidly as Harry approached, letting out a small huff as Harry bent down to scratch behind its ears. He heard the Hog's Head door open as someone approached

"I've met you before." Harry said softly to the large pair of boots that exited the Hog's Head. "I can't remember where though." The large man said nothing, his shoes walking down the path in a confident stride.

"Wait! Where are you going?" Harry called as he ran after the man, the dog following with a bark.

"I don't know. There are many things in the universe to see. I should not have to limit myself to a little village in Scotland."

"But… you owe me answers. I don't even know who you are."

The man turned around, his face stern. "Go away Harry. You shouldn't go looking around for trouble. And I'm not the average kind of trouble either."

Something clicked in Harry's head. "You said _universe_, not world. You're one of them. The missing one.

The silence stretched out between the two, as Harry and the stranger continued to survey each other. Then the man burst out in loud laughter. "Ah, lad. I think you have your words mixed up. I'm hardly missing if I know where I am. So what did you want to talk to me about?" He settled himself on a large boulder nearby as he waited for Harry's response.

"I…er.. hold on." Harry drifted off as the words failed him.

"Hmm…. You didn't think that far ahead." The man had a knowing expression on his face, but it did not carry a condescending air. Harry shook his head sheepishly. "Very well. I suppose it doesn't matter either way, I promised my sister I would tell you a few things, if I ever came across you. What do you know?"

"Can you be a little more specific?" There were a lot of things that Harry knew, but that question was so vague he didn't know the appropriate response.

"Tell me the most astonishingly true thing that you know."

Harry contemplated the question, aware that there was something very important to learn. The most appropriate response would be something he learned from the Endless. Perhaps he could tell him that colors have meaning, and all the meanings were true? But that was an answer that didn't really say anything. He needed something with a little more substance. Harry looked up at the grey sky and stuck his hands in his pockets. As his fingers drifted over his Invisibility Cloak, he thought of the Deathly Hallows and Dream. "There is truth in stories."

"You've been talking to Morpheus. Ah, well. That's a good place to start. He's a strange one, my brother. He takes his work very seriously, I don't think there would be a single challenge in the universe he couldn't overcome if he didn't want to. He's that dedicated to his responsibilities.

"He was furious when I left my work. I wouldn't be surprised if the Dreaming had frosted over for a few decades. But there is the thing that he did not understand. There is no such thing as a one-sided coin. For everything that is erased, there is something new to begin. One day, I grew tired of my role."

"So you flipped the coin to the other side. Began something new."

"Yes. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded seriously. "A bit. It means that things change." Harry walked away from the large man, thinking of the message he had been given. It wasn't a very profound truth; it was a common fact that no one could deny. Being able to accept that things change, now that was the real trouble. As he passed the Three Broomsticks, he encountered Katie Bell.

"Oy, Katie. I have a message from Cedric." He called out, only to notice her awkward movements and the odd package in her hands. "Are you all right?" He snapped his fingers in front of her face. Katie didn't blink, and continued up the castle. Harry groaned in frustration as he recognized the effects of the Imperious Curse. He withdrew his wand and stunned her as they reached the other side of the hill. He didn't want to start a panic if anyone found him attacking her or vice versa. He tossed his Invisibility Cloak over her and checked the package in her hand.

It was a large, bulky necklace with large pearls. It looked innocent, but it made no sense that she was carrying it around. He racked his mind for the correct spell to identify dark objects, he had searched many books for one after discovering the diary, but he never had the reason to perform it. The first swish of his wand didn't seem to do anything, so he tried again. This time, the necklace gleamed a faint green color. It was a cursed object. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out his handkerchief and picked it up. He headed back to Hogsmeade. He found the Prodigal where he left him, although the man had set up an easel and was painting the image in front of him.

"That's a nice boulder," Harry complimented as he looked at the painting. The dog let out a noise that sounded too close to laughter.

"It's supposed to be an owl," he said in an exhausted tone.

"Oh. Umm…I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Not that you owe me anything, or that I'm ungrateful for the advice." Harry withdrew the necklace from his pocket. "Could you get rid of this?"

The man looked at him with an almost angry expression, before it faded back away. Harry thought he might have imagined it. "Nice handkerchief." The Prodigal pointed to the striped green cloth in Harry's hand.

"Er… thanks. A poltergeist gave it to me when we stole a ship together to visit the Caribbean. Well, we didn't steal it, more like _borrowed_. They got it back." Harry said in defense.

The fourth member of the Endless chuckled. "Very well. Leave it over there. I'll get to it when I'm finished with my painting."

"Thank you." Unnerved that the man might have been angry for his request, Harry felt the need to explain himself. "I was afraid that someone might get hurt. Some people can't tell a dangerous thing when they see it."

"Don't thank me Harry. Good Luck"

Harry walked away from the man, his steps loud against the gravel. When he reached the other side of the hill, he broke out in a run.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The Prodigal watched Harry walk away with concern. The kid was a mess. The ideas of the Endless provided Harry with some clarity on the workings of the universe. As a result, some of the world was shaped by his subconscious. Harry's words held a little more meaning than most, and he could spread his ideas and wishes if he wanted. Chaos and madness thrived around him, bringing joy and pain. And he walked steadily towards a confrontation with Tom Riddle, firm in his actions, even if they resulted in death.

Anyone could know everything, Harry wasn't the only one with the ability, but most simply chose not to. It made their lives simpler, and in many ways, their lives were better off. But Harry had been exposed to his family too much. It was easy for Harry to understand cause and effect, and how the universe must go forward until the very end.

The Prodigal looked at the necklace grimly. He had walked away from his family and responsibilities, but he would do the boy a favor and get rid of it.

He hoped that his message would mean as much to Harry as the words and actions from the rest of the family. Not that it mattered anymore. Harry had sought out Destruction, not once, but twice.

Something would break.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

"Trophies," Harry replied weakly to Dumbledore when he exited the Pensieve. He had been silent as they watched the memory, and it appeared that the Headmaster had picked up on Harry's preference of silent observation. "The things he stole from the children were trophies to show he was better than them." His mouth felt dry and he desperately wanted to get away from Dumbledore's keen eyes and the rapt audience of the portraits.

"You'll note his distaste for the name Tom, a name too common for his taste."

"Which is why he came up with the name Voldemort."

"Precisely." Dumbledore did not appear to notice Harry's revulsion to the memory, and proceeded to expound on some of the more aloof qualities of Tom's character before he entered Hogwarts. Harry nodded at his explanations, and pointed out that Tom revealed his ability to talk to snakes at the very end, one of the few things that had not caused him alarm.

When he left the office and headed up to the Astronomy Tower. There was a slight risk that he would get caught, but Harry would suffer the consequences of a detention in return for some fresh air. He pushed open the door and made his way to the edge, then buried his head in his hands.

"_I can make them hurt if I want to."_ Tom's words echoed in his head. Hadn't he said something similar to Malfoy when he threatened the man over the summer? Desire had warned him that they were alike. (Or told him, or taunted him, Harry wasn't sure which). And he could still remember the elation he felt when he wrote in the diary, that one second in which they connected and shared their love for Hogwarts.

But seeing Tom in the orphanage was too much. Seeing those words echoed back, watching Tom's confidence, his demand for the truth, his rebellious attitude that was tucked away under the gaze of someone older and stronger than him. It was like looking at a strange reflection of himself, only this version held no trace of confusion or guilt. This one was confident, the very thing that Harry wished he could be. He would have killed for a friend like Tom. But that was the difference between them, because Harry was under the impression that Tom would kill for anything but a friend.

The cool wind blew a strong, and the chill settled in his body. Harry lowered himself to the floor, and leaned against the wall. There was an urge growing, a burning itch for a cigarette that he wouldn't smoke. He hadn't smoked since that strange dream, in which he gave his pack of smokes to Merv. The cigarettes had disappeared afterward, but Harry couldn't say if it was because of a coincidence, someone had stolen them, or because he actually gave them to Merv. Harry sat silent and huddled as thoughts drifted, he only came out from his introspection when the Bloody Baron arrived.

He gave the Baron a respectful nod. The ghost began to howl and rattle his chains, and Harry watched him go on a bit, unwilling to go downstairs yet. He closed his eyes, eventually he began to drift to sleep, the rattle of the Bloody Baron's chains sounding oddly like coins falling to the ground.

* * *

The first half of the year raced by quickly, a change from the stifling atmosphere of Umbridge's rule. Harry had a bit more free time now that he didn't need to make elaborate lesson plans, and that the Wizarding World was holding back Voldemort's attempts to seize the world in fear. The Daily Prophet frequently mentioned attacks against Muggles that had failed as nearby neighbors sprang forth to save them. This included some nasty swarms of dementors, and Harry couldn't help but to feel a little bit of pride in Cedric, to think he was a dopey little lovebird last year. Harry set down his paper and gave a scowl as he saw Katie Bell as she giggled into her glass. Who was he kidding? Cedric hadn't changed that much yet.

Rumor had it that Cedric would attend the Slug Club Christmas Party with her in a few days. Harry, of course, had been asked to attend by a jovial Slughorn. Seeing no reason to deny an amusing distraction, Harry had agreed, only to regret it immediately. Word had spread fast, and now Harry found himself swarmed by giggling girls trying to catch him under the mistletoe. It was a situation even worse than the Yule Ball, and he was not pleased one bit. Because Harry knew that if a girl ever tried to corner him for a kiss, it would not be on the lips.

And Harry honestly didn't know where he would aim (neck, wrist, thigh...). It would probably depend on how much cheering up he needed.

He did not plan on taking anyone to Slughorn's party. Unlike the Yule Ball, there wasn't any dancing required, it was simply a holiday celebration with all of Slughorn's most notable contacts. He would probably see a few Quidditch players and people who wrote books as big as his head, and there would be plenty of posturing. But everyone expected him to bring someone along for company. He scoffed at the idea, until Hermione told him of Romilda Vane's plot to give him love potion that spurred him into action. He did not have the faintest idea of who the girl was, but if she thought it was a good idea to poison him, he wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole. His annoyance was further rankled when he learned the potion was a creation of Fred and George's.

As soon as he found out he sent a letter to them to be careful whom they sold their products to. For good measure, he sent along the request to Cedric. He knew that a fair amount of respect had grown between the three and Fred and George may be more interested in what their old classmate had to say.

A few days latter a pretty fourth year appeared before him and flirted heavily. He smiled politely even as she fluttered her eyelashes. And when she said her name she handed him a box of chocolates. Harry pretended he was a Gryffindor and did not punch her in the face.

He thought that was quite chivalrous of him.

In the end, he asked Susan Bones to go with him. She had been to plenty of Slughorn's functions thanks to her parent's status, and she knew how to navigate the political waters well enough. He was highly tempted to take Luna, knowing the awkward conversations would be hilarious, but he had been seen around with Luna often enough. People were staring to have the impression that she was his girlfriend.

That would probably be a very bad idea, he didn't want her to become a target.

The party was a great deal of fun. He met a few vampires, some people who had way too much money and time, and finally met Blaise's mother. His good mood continued even as he boarded the Hogwarts train for Christmas Break.

Because of this, he didn't notice the tension in Snape's voice.

He failed to notice that the broken bits of the cursed necklace scattered along the walk.

He didn't even notice the look of misery and fear on Draco's face.

* * *

They held Christmas at Grimmauld Place once more because there were far too many members of the Order of the Phoenix without family. Remus, Sirius, Harry, Bode, the list went on. Mrs. Weasley took it as a personal challenge and was determined to make the atmosphere as festive as possible. Harry's cheeky remark that she should make Tonks dress up in holiday lingerie had earned him a stern thwack with a spatula.

"Don't be crass," Tonks said with a pink face.

Overall, Harry enjoyed himself remarkable and nearly forgot about his summertime intention to look at some of the old books until Phineas paid him a visit.

"And what does the remarkable Potter doing right now," he asked in a sly tone. "Searching for the long lost treasure of King Arthur with a piece of thread and glass?"

Harry's mouth quirked a grin. "Not quite. I am getting ready for bed."

"How disappointing," replied Phineas. "The Headmaster has been gone and it has been boring. I hoped you could provide some good entertainment.

"Er, no. I haven't been doing anything besides opening presents and gorging myself. Don't tell me you've _missed_ me."

Phineas' eyes narrowed. "The last thing I want to do is inflate that overly smug head of yours. But you have been a… change in the normal business of things. I don't agree with all of Dumbledore's actions and seeing someone talk sensible to him without a zealous amount of hero worship is enjoyable. The fact you are a fellow Slytherin only compounds my appreciation."

"So that is a yes?"

Phineas gave a stiff nod.

"Well, with that sort of appreciations I feel bad that I haven't got anything to plot. I wanted to know about the Dark Lord's background and know I'm learning about it. People are learning to defend themselves instead of waiting for Dumbledore to rescue them. Plus, I have Malfoy following a set of instructions in order to protect his family from dying. Things are pretty good right now."

"And what is this diary? Dumbledore seemed quite perplexed by it over the summer."

Harry froze, he had forgotten about it. Maybe there was some sort of enchantment on it to dissuade his memory. It was probably the most dangerous thing he owned and yet he to strain himself to remember its existence. Dumbledore had not questioned him of it, perhaps he had not realized it was still in Harry's possession. He rubbed his head in frustration and sat down on his bed to explain the diary to the portrait.

"Right now I have it hidden someplace where nobody can find it. But I have no idea what it could be. Most of the studying I've done on the Dark Arts has concerned spells rather than objects." Harry waited for Phineas' response, anticipating some sardonic comment. However, the figure remained immobile and Harry began to think that the portrait had malfunctioned.

"Are you certain of what you saw?" Phineas eventually asked. There was apprehension in the portrait's voice that Harry had never heard before. "The book not only reacted to your words but it also possessed the girl?"

"Yes," Harry responded promptly.

Phineas spoke in a grave tone "It is a horcrux.".

* * *


	45. Ch 42 The Second Sons

**Chapter Forty-Two**

**The Second Sons**

_**I could never again be an angel... Innocence, once lost, can never be regained.**_

Lucifer in _Season of Mists_

* * *

"It's a what?" Harry had no idea how to respond. The intensity of Phineas' tone indicated a grand revelation, but the word 'Horcrux' was only gibberish to Harry.

Amazingly, Phineas did not mock Harry's lack of knowledge. "A Horcrux is the darkest of magic, created with the intention of prolonging one's life. The creator must seal a piece of one's soul after committing a murder. The death must not be out of revenge, or forced, or justice or any sense of morality. Only a death with the intention of creating the object."

"So the diary's alive?" Harry asked in horror. He remembered the vision of the pages fluttering as if it was breathing. It was strange, but Harry didn't think that destroying the diary would mean he killing a part of the Dark Lord. "How do you get rid of it?"

"I am uncertain, the spell to create one is immensely rare and complex. Only the insane study it, much less perform it." Phineas paced inside his frame in agitation.

"Do you think I might find a clue here somewhere?"

"Perhaps."

Harry was uneasy for the next few days, even Ron could not take his mind off the pressing issue. He searched through every book in Grimmauld, all of them lacking a description of the Horcux's nature, although there were a few oblique mentions. During an Order meeting, Harry went to the attic and searched through the belongings of the Black family. He was nearing the end of his search when he found _The Secrets of the Darkest Art_. Shoving it under his arm, Harry went down to his room and began to read.

Harry had lost his innocence and his ibelief that people were intrinsically good years ago. After all, good was such a subjective thing. But as he read about how to create a Horcrux, its nature and how to destroy it, he felt horror rising in him. He and Voldemort were a lot alike, but Harry had found a thing that separated their natures. Irrational murders, tearing of the soul, avoiding death, these were the pillars of the Horcrux. And although Harry had suspected that Voldemort had managed to protect himself from the killing curse, seeing the proof of his immortality was another thing. He was so entranced that he fell asleep while reading and woke up with his face smooshed against a gruesome illustration.

Still groggy, he stumbled while climbing out of bed, knocking the objects on his bed to the floor. When he came back into the room, he noticed an old, yellowed parchment that had fallen off of the book. Confused, he bent to pick it up, and saw indistinct handwriting.

_Where? _

_Hogwarts_

Gringotts

_**Elf**_

Elf was written in bold and circled assertively. Harry recognized the handwriting. There had been scattered notes from Sirius' younger brother when Harry had moved in the previous summer. Had Regulus created one? Or attempted to do so? Regulus died before Harry was born, so it was unlikely any successful attempt was made. Or was he searching for the diary that Harry had discovered?

It wasn't until the night before Harry returned to Hogwarts that he inquired Sirius on what was known of Regulus' death. The information was very little, only that Sirius' brother had died at the age of seventeen, shortly after taking the Dark Mark. There were not any witnesses to his death, and his body was never found. It wasn't much to go on, and Harry was disappointed by the news. So he stared at the yellowed page, the word seared in his brain.

_Where?_

* * *

The students were returning to Hogwarts from Christmas break by using the Floo System. The fireplace at Grimmauld was forbidden from being used ever since Malfoy had become Minister. It was quite fortunate that Fred, George, and Cedric were never caught using it when they stole all of Umbridge's things the previous year, Dumbledore would have moved Headquarters to a new location otherwise.

Harry chose to return by Side-Appartating with Sirius to the house in Hogsmeade and returning by the Hog's Head secret entrance. Abe didn't seem to mind that Harry came and went whenever he wanted. Abe was a grumpy man, but he had a great deal of common sense. It was a strong contrast to his brother whose flowerily language was one of Harry's least favorite traits.

Harry mostly went that direction to see Ariana. For a silent portrait she had a great deal of personality. She never failed to cheer up his day.

He paused at her portrait, and heard Sirius and Abe coming from up downstairs. He really didn't feel like going to Hogwarts right away, the discovery of the Horcrux still lying in his mind. So he pulled up a chair across from Ariana and began to talk to her.

"Have you heard of the Tale of the Three Brothers?"" he asked her. She nodded, "How about the Deathly Hallows?" Her eyes widened and she nodded once more.

"Really? Wow, they must have spread the story a lot more in the past. I hadn't even heard about the Deathly Hallows until…"

**BANG!**

Harry heard the spell go off behind him and avoided most of the conjured ropes although his leg was tied to the chair.

"Don't you dare mention that in my bar, boy!"

"What?" Harry sputtered in shock as he looked up to the furious barkeep. He had always gotten along well with Abe; he had not expected to be attacked. "I was just telling her a story. You know, The Deathly Hallows are more than just that." Harry couldn't help the bit of awe that crept in his voice.

Abe's face grew no kinder. "Wipe that look off of your face," Abe snapped as he freed Harry from the chair. "If you had any sense at all you would leave that story alone. It's dangerous business to get caught up in dreams and forget to pay attention on what's going around you."

The sentence tickled at Harry's brain, as if he had heard it before. Then he remembered that it was the Headmaster's brother, and he probably had heard it before, although less plain and more profound.

"He came around and believed in it and all that came about was a death. Don't you go and get caught up in it too. You have some brains, boy. Don't waste them."

"HE? It sounds like you are talking about the Dark Lord," Harry said, lacing his words with puzzlement. Abe made a noise of agreement and stared into Harry's eyes as if he were sizing him up. Harry made certain not to break contact and kept up his genuine confusion.

"Grindelwald," Abe murmured. "I was talking about Grindelwald." He was beginning to withdraw and Harry knew he had to say something to get the man to continue talking. He didn't know much about the Dark Wizard, save that he had been a terror for most of Europe about fifty years ago. There was exhaustion in Abe's body language; there was more to this story than Harry was aware of. But Abe wouldn't bring it up his personal encounter with Grindelwald again of his own volition.

"Well, Grindelwald was an idiot. He should have figured that becoming the Master of Death meant accepting it instead of causing it. Which means you can't look for the items. It will happen or it won't, there is no going around it." Harry was careful to put just the right about of flippancy in his voice, as if he didn't care at all.

And Aberforth Dumbledore confessed.

* * *

Around and around he paced in a secret room in Hogwarts. At this moment Harry wanted a Pensieve. They say you should be careful about what you wish for, and Harry was regretting ever encouraging Abe. Harry's carefully chosen words had broken the man down, and he told Harry of his experience as a Quester.

Rather, Dumbledore and Grindelwald's.

Harry found himself at a loss. On one hand, he was joyous. At times he had found Dumbledore overly condescending. The Headmaster knew very little of Harry, and his gentle chastisement of Harry's choices was not something he was fond of. When it came to large decisions, Harry was very thorough in reviewing the pros and the cons, and made himself aware of the risks. He wasn't so careless. Hearing the heavy price that Dumbledore had paid showed that he was flawed, and it made the man human.

Then again, Harry was furious. Dumbledore was brilliant, but how could he have been so blinded by the lofty tale that he had failed to notice what was before him? And how was the man so stupid that he failed to realize that _The Tale of the Three Brothers_ had morals, because it was a fairy tale?

Dumbledore and Grindelwald had sought the Dealthly Hallows for "The Greater Good." As far as Harry could see, only those who were unwilling to risk themselves used that phrase. As a result of Grindelwald's anger, Ariana had been killed.

It was clear to Harry that Dumbledore's concern came from his own failure to act. Harry frowned and made another circle in the Room of Requirement. He didn't want to admit it, but he was disappointed. Even though their conversations could be tense, it was nice that they were exploring the workings of Voldemort. It was something Harry wanted to do for ages and no one else would have been comfortable with it; much less look for the knowledge themselves.

But now that Harry had learned of Ariana (who reminded him of Luna, who reminded him of Del) he was upset. Dumbledore was a leader for werewolf rights, elves, centaurs, and Muggle-borns. But he didn't become that way because he thought they were equal. It was because his sister had died because of his own failure and was shown what was _wrong._

Harry would have never sacrificed a girl for the greater good.

Harry's foot landed on top of a marble, causing him to misstep and his mind came to an abrupt halt.

It wasn't true.

He had nearly killed Ginny in his second year. The reason he had not was because he felt an obligation to the other Weasleys. At the time he believed she had something to do with his soul, some far off notion that he was destined for her. Harry shook his head ruefully, _soul mates._ What had made him think that? Oh, yes. The strange pink light that had enveloped her body when he met her. And the only connotation he had made was that of love.

But MacNair and Crouch had the same light envelope them the year following. Because of this he had avoided the two men, he sensed of danger from them. Come to think of it, it was another reason why he had searched for another reason not to kill Ginny. He had been nervous that there was some more to the story that he didn't know about.

In hindsight, that was the thing that held him back, He was worried about taking any action against Ginny, if he was going to kill her, he should have seen green. Crouch and MacNair, Bagman and Crouch. If Harry had found out they placed his name in the cup, he would have sought revenge.

Was that the purpose of the color pink? A warning that things are not as simple as he thought and that a wrong choice could have sent him down a very different path?

What would have happened to him if he had killed Ginny? Perhaps he would have felt so ashamed of his constant lying to Ron that he would have left England. He might never have met Sirius; he might not have cared enough about anyone and lost a bit of himself until he was ripe for Voldemort's attack.

MacNair and Crouch Jr. had alternated between Polyjuice and the Imperious Curse in order to keep an eye of him, taking turns. If Harry had killed the wrong Crouch, something could have gone horribly wrong. Voldemort would have been certain he was a threat, especially since he was a partial witness to Quirrel's death. He would not have been as keen to gloat on his return and wouldn't have played games before he killed Harry. And when the Death Eaters gathered his body would have been displayed before them, and the Dark Lord's triumph would have been absolute.

Harry slumped to the ground, leaning his head against the wall. He could think about 'what ifs' forever, but it didn't change the past. Dumbledore had been willing to sacrifice people, to enforce Grindelwald's aims and his sister's death was the result of his flawed assumption. Harry had not been willing to compromise, and it was thanks to the Four Lessons that he had not made such a disastrous mistake.

He looked at Riddle's diary that rested on a rickety table and he sighed. When he left Grimmauld he was going to tell Dumbledore everything he knew about the Horcrux, he was that keen to get rid of the dratted thing. The man had to know a safer way to eliminate it, or have more experience in performing the dangerous spells such as Fiendfyre. But the news about the Deathly Hallows had left Harry unsettled and he didn't think that he could look Dumbledore in the eye without throwing one of those damned paperweights at his face.

And it wasn't fair that the man had the second Hallow within his reach, Dumbledore didn't deserve it. The ability to raise the dead was a powerful thing, and there was no spell created that could ever replicate it. That only left the Elder wand, the object that Grindelwald had searched for the most.

Harry froze when it occurred to him that the old wizard might have been successful. What else would have held back Dumbledore from dueling the man when people were dying left and right? Only his own fear. If Dumbledore was ashamed of his past, he might not have felt comfortable dueling Grindelwald. Harry rubbed his hands in frustration. He couldn't remember a single thing about the Elder wand, but he was fairly certain he could find a book about its history in the library. But a carefully worded sentence could work as well, and perhaps be more effective.

* * *

The next time Harry went to the Headmaster's office, he did so with dread. As eager as he had been to explore the Dark Lord's past, Dumbledore's own history was an unexpected side-effect. It was strange that the three most famous wizards of modern times all had literal skeletons in their closets. But Harry had learned of redemption from his guardian and he could see that Dumbledore regretted it had come to Ariana's death in order to get him to change. So rather than bringing up the subject and the painful and personal memories that came with it, Harry stayed silent. Perhaps one day he would break and all of his disappointment would spew forth.

It was unlikely though; Harry was in control of his emotions.

"That's an elder wand, isn't it?" Harry asked bluntly.

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose in astonishment as Harry continued to explain. "Ernie received a note from his mother that told him he should polish his wand in top condition. But no one really knows what the proper amount of time should be between polishing. I thought yours would be old because you are, no offense, the same."

"Ah, a slight miscommunication. I believe that the words you are searching for is older. To answer your question, I would give it a polish once a week. Although it does not effect the spell work, it does give the impression that one is a competent wizard."

"Older, elder…" Harry shrugged. "Sorry. I did a lot of traveling when I was younger."

"I wasn't aware that the Dursley's provided you with a great deal of travel."

Harry's hand twitched in annoyance. He was so nervous that he had led Dumbledore into uncomfortable personal territory. "They sent me overseas for schooling. They weren't very fond of me. So what are we viewing today?"

"Once more we journey into the depths of Tom's past." They dipped into the memories in the Penseive and Harry looked around to see they were once again located at the Gaunt shack. Soon enough, a teenage Tom Riddle entered, so very much like the memory that asked Slughorn for a pass to the Restricted Section. Harry felt a pang of sympathy for Tom as he encountered Morfin Gaunt, a dirty pathetic man utterly unworthy of the heir of Slytherin title that he boasted of. Tom's interest was peaked when he noticed the ring on Morphin's finger and heard of the necklace that Merope Gaunt had sold. The memory ended abruptly, and Dumbledore explained that Riddles' deaths were blamed on Morphin.

"Huh, that does not make sense," Harry said absentmindedly. He caught the look of curiosity on Dumbledore's face. "I understand why he killed his Muggle relatives, they did not have magic. Tom met his uncle, a man who boasted of his blood purity and family heritage. But to everyone else they were rather embarrassing. So why did he latch on to it?" Harry rubbed his head in frustration. "The reasoning seems flawed. It should have been proof that the statement was wrong."

"True, to you and I. But you heard Tom in the orphanage. He always believed that he was different. He had no connections to his family. While you and I look down and pity Morfin for his ideals, Lord Voldemort did not. He looks down on everyone because he believes himself superior to all."

Harry held his tongue, to not ask a question of Dumbledore's own teenage folly. "He took the ring as another trophy," he said instead.

"Yes. And we will be able to see this ring in this small memory I coerced Professor Slughorn in giving to me."

There were several students gathered around Slughorn, and Harry took this as an old meeting of the Slug Club. Tom held back and asked with just the right amount of innocence and hesitation.

_"Sir, I wondered what you know about…" a pause, "about Horcruxes?"_

The delicate question hit Harry unexpectedly. He had not anticipated at all that Dumbledore was ahead of him. Voldemort had not died when he was hit by the rebounded killing curse and Dumbledore had searched for the cause. Harry's heart beat rapidly in his chest in anticipation, but the memory was useless because Slughorn had tampered with it. It ended abruptly without satisfaction.

"Your task, then Harry, is to retrieve the actual memory from Professor Slughorn." Harry was about to protest this idea loudly; he already knew what a Horcrux was. But the he snapped his mouth shut when he realized that Dumbledore knew as well. There was something more hidden that Dumbledore wanted confirmed before he brought up the subject.

"Er… I don't think that is a good idea."

"Nonsense, I believe that you have the skills in order to persuade Professor Slughorn into giving you the proper memory." The Headmaster said this quite cheerfully. It was this attitude that Harry could not stand, as if the man knew him. It was true that Harry had the skills to persuade people. Most of the time they were smooth words and a charming smile, but sometimes they dipped into the pain inducing variety. He had a deep suspicion these were not the skills that Dumbledore was talking about.

Casting a look of doubt at the man, Harry left.

* * *

It was convenient that he had Potions class the next day. As Harry brewed his potion, he thought of various ways he could use to persuade Slughorn before he mentally threw up his hands in defeat. The man wasn't young, Slughorn had been exposed to brown-nosing, had been simpered at, and seen various other forms of persuasion for a long time. He had probably experienced it all and it would take more than a few words to get the man to relinquish the memory. After all, he hadn't even bent to Dumbledore's plea.

No, Harry would have to coerce Slughorn by more extreme means. He didn't have material to blackmail his teacher and he didn't want the relationship to get strained. There was the possibility he could use Slughorn's fantastic connections in the future. But there was something in more in Slughorn than most of the people in Slytherin house. The Potions teacher was sentimental. He hung photos on the walls, reminisced about the people he taught and collected memorabilia. Tom Riddle, the prized orphan boy that Slughhorn had taught turned into a monster, Slughorn would not have forgotten. Which meant, Harry could use some of that guilt and sentimentality to retrieve the memory.

That night, after dinner, Harry knocked on the Professor's door.

"Harry! What a pleasant surprise." Slughorn had already changed into his velvet robes, a pair of worn slippers on his feet.

"Is it too late?" Harry asked in perplexity. He hadn't taken a look at the time.

"No, not at all. I would always make time from a visit for one of my top students." He ushered Harry to a cushy chair by the fireplace. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Harry gave a small smile. "Hmm… well there are lots of things I wanted to ask you. I thought I could seek your opinions on some things."

"Such as?" Slughorn asked, pouring himself a glass of sparkling water.

Harry scratched the back of his head. "Well, I know this is a year too late, but I thought since you have taught so many student that it couldn't hurt." He let himself babble a bit to let the man get comfortable. "I don't know what I want to do when I finish Hogwarts. I know that career advice was last year, but Proffessor Snape and I don't get along very well."

Slughorn had leaned forward as Harry spoke. "Yes, he never did get along with your father. If I recall properly, it was one of the most intense rivalries in the school. Ah, no matter, I would be glad to assist you. What classes are you taking?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Transfiguration, Charms, and Arithmacy."

Slughorn clapped his hands in delight. "That's a good selection of classes, there aren't many who would sneer at those choices. Very few limits to what you could do. I suppose it comes down to what you like."

Harry sipped his water, contemplating the question. He had no idea how to answer it.

Slughorn sensed his confusion and continued. "Rather, what do you dislike?"

"Paperwork," Harry replied promptly. "I know that most careers will have some, but I would like to avoid that as much as possible."

"An adventurous type! Not interested in becoming Minister of Magic then?"

Harry couldn't stop the look of horror on his face. People watching his every move? A sycophantic group that sucked up to him to get laws passed? His own Umbridge? He thought he was going to be ill.

Slughorn chuckled. "I suppose not well there are many jobs that might interest you. Curse breakers, magical exploration, creature care, and ambassadorship. I've heard that you are particularly talented in Defense Against the Dark Arts. You could freelance. It would allow you to travel around the world to contain some of the world's darkest threats. Only the most talented succeed." He looked at Harry with narrowed eyes. "I highly doubt that will be a problem for you."

Harry had the fleeting image of himself escaping a hoard of sphinxes by jumping off a cliff and catching a vine on his way down. The daydream quickly deflated when he remembered that there was a war that he would probably not survive. Unnerved, he shoved the thought to the back of his mind and proceeded to ask his next question.

"What can you tell me about Horcruxes?"

Slughorn choked on his drink at the abrupt change of subject. Harry continued to look at him impassively and let him cough it out.

"Did Dumbledore put you up to this?" Slughorn asked, his face red.

"Of course."

He looked at Harry with new eyes, wary and uncomfortable. "I don't know anything."

Harry's jaw tightened. "Liar. If you didn't know anything, _I _wouldn't be here asking you an answer that I already know. A Horcrux is an object that contains a piece of a human soul in order to tie the person to life." He reached into his pocket and withdrew the small diary and placed it on the table, so the lettering was shown. "Like this one."

Slughorn sat very still, his eyes blinking rapidly as he looked that the name on the cover. "A Horcrux," he whispered in disbelief.

Harry shrugged as he continued to talk in a nonchalant voice. "Perhaps. I stumbled on this a few years back, but I did not think it was such thing until recently. I was planning on telling Dumbledore what it is, but he was quite insistent that I talk to you."

_Tap TAP_

Harry's finger clinked on the side of his glass.

Slughorn remained silent, the guilt too strong for him to confess yet. A little more pressure and the man would crack. Harry lifted the diary and thumbed through the blank pages.

"From what I could tell this was made during his Hogwarts years." The professor let out a strained noise. "Can you imagine? The first war was pointless because all this time the Dark Lord was invincible. Well, at least immortal. I get rid of this and the most difficult part is done. Yet, Dumbledore sent me to talk to you, which means there is more to this than the standard, Horcrux. Why did he do that?"

_Tap TAP_

Slughorn shook his head. "I can't… I'm afraid I did much harm that day."

"You can tell me, Professor. I've fought against him. I wasn't very good, but I survived. This isn't about guilt, shame or blame. This is about winning."

"If anyone found out…"

_Tap TAP_

"No one has to know. I've had this diary for years, and no one knew about it. I am very good at keeping secrets. You don't even have to give me the memory, you can just tell me."

_Tap TAP_

Slughorn's posture relaxed as he seized Harry's tiny concession. "He questioned me about making more than one."

"There are more?"

"I do not know!" Slughorn responded angrily. "I told him it was a poor idea and forbade him to pursue such nonsense. He did not listen." He moved away from the diary and took another gulp from his glass.

Harry closed his eyes and recalled the yellowed parchment with a list of locations. He feared that Slughorn might be right.

"Of course, it makes sense. He would want to have a spare. No one would ever expect it. _Horcruxes_, he said _Horcruxes_. But there is no such word because every wizard only made one, but that's what he asked about. He thinks he's the greatest wizard that ever lived, he wouldn't care about his soul. As long as his magical ability wasn't affected he wouldn't see the harm in making more than one."

There was a noise from Slughorn, and Harry looked up, surprised to find he had been pacing the room.

"You seem to understand him." Slughorn commented idly.

"I… we're a lot alike." Harry responded shortly. He picked up the diary and shoved it into his pocket. The truth of the statement was beginning to rankle him, its value soured by its insult.

"One last question. What do you remember about Regulus Black's death?"

Slughorn looked at Harry with narrowed eyes and grunted in reply. Harry could tell the professor was upset that he had let go of his secret, and would speak no more without some information of his own.

"I found a list of his in my room. I know he was studying them, but I don't know if he was planning on making one or if he was searching for one of the Dark Lord's. That might have been the reason he was murdered. I was wondering was Regulus was a dark wizard or if it was an attempt to make things right."

Slughorn stood up and stared into the fireplace. Harry rolled his eyes, the man was trying to be dramatic, but Harry was certain he would respond the question.

"I believe that Regulus would have regretted his conversations with the Dark Lord like I did. He was a student who had only one close friend and he did have an admirable level of skill in certain subjects. However Regulus was fonder of magical theory rather than application, a student bound for a future life tied to a desk. I would have never guessed that he would pursue the Horcruxes out of his own volition, but things could have changed with the right amount of pressure."

"I see. Thank you, Professor. You've been a great amount of help." Harry left Slughorn's office and shut the door. He walked the hallways back to Slytherin, his mind filled with Hallows, Horcruxes, and the younger brothers who had kept them secret.


	46. Ch 43 There Can Be Only One

**Chapter Forty-Three**

**There Can Be Only One**

She decides to make a list of things that make her happy. She writes 'plum-blossom' at the top of a piece of paper. Then she stares at the paper, unable to think of anything else.

**Eventually it begins to get dark.**

A portrait of Despair in _Endless Nights_

_

* * *

  
_

_Compare the magical properties of the numbers three, seven, and eight as applied to the Draught of the Living Death._

Harry's homework was mocking him, so even in the mundane task of schoolwork he was unable to escape the revelations from earlier in the month. He rubbed his eyes as he listened to Hermione compare her facts with Padma and Terry. Despite having several years of proper education, books were still not his preferred method of learning. For the first time in years, he was regretting turning down a post on the Quidditch team, as it would have given him an excuse to be outside. He had been doing far too much learning lately and his mind was occupied with Hallows and Horcruxes. His homework wouldn't let the pressing concern subside.

There were three Deathly Hallows, there were seven members of the Endless and there… well, he couldn't think of what eight stood for.

Worse, Harry wanted to talk about it with somebody, but he could not. Normally he would have gone to Sirius, but that was a bad idea since Regulus appeared to be involved with the Horcruxes. His godfather had been irritable enough when Harry asked about his brother over Christmas break. The Black family was a sore spot that was discussed in short, tense sentences and followed by a drink. The last thing Harry wanted to do was to make Sirius hope that his family wasn't as bad as he originally thought only to snatch that hope away.

And while Harry trusted some of his friends, dragging them into a situation he had little control over seemed selfish. Harry didn't know how long the war would last, but he knew that the less people knew about the Horcruxes and the Hallows; the safer they would be. The Hallows were a fairy tale and even though he knew they were real; the line in which myth and reality crossed was blurry. Something drastic had to change if he was going to discuss Voldemort's Horcruxes with his friends. Dumbledore was proof that people became very stupid when they held a discussion on how to avoid death. He could talk about the Horcruxes with Dumbledore; the Headmaster had already learned the lesson the hard way. But the man was busy with other duties, and any possibility that Harry might have confided with him on other issues was eliminated by his discovery of Ariana.

He could feel something in the air, like a watch wound too tightly.

Time was ticking away, but Harry was unaware to what it was counting down to. And lately he had noticed the influence of the Endless, such as the despair that clung to the newspapers every morning with notices of death and destruction. It had always been there, Harry knew that. Other people couldn't see it because they didn't know about the Endless or because their minds were occupied with other things. But lately his paranoia had heightened his senses, and so he could see the connections that others would overlook.

Harry was afraid it wouldn't be too long before the pressure was too much.

* * *

Harry and the rest of his fellow classmates looked that the Ministry wizard in doubt. The jovial wizard was beaming as he explained the three D's of Apparating: Destination, Determination and Deliberation. It was a rather vague explanation for a skill that had been practiced for many years, lacking the detail of a Charms or Transfiguration class. This man was a colossal failure at explaining how it worked.

Twillcross waved his arms. "One, two, and spin on the spot!"

Harry turned a fraction, only to be distracted by Ernie who gave a ridiculous twirl and landed in the hoop. Dean caught Harry's eye and they both started laughing, and it only intensified when Ernie let out a noise of accomplishment. Harry wiped the look off his face when McGonagall's looked at him disapprovingly and focused once more on the hoop at his feet. Determination, Deliberation and De…

Harry scrunched his face in puzzlement; the last of Twillcross' D's lost to him. He knew lots of things that began with D.

Delores

Dream

Death

It was really no surprise that a poorly thought out lesson plan was lost out in the world instead of inside his head.

Harry looked at his classmates as they attempted to land in the ring. Ron's spins were sloppy and incomplete; Hermione's were too tense. Blaise's turns were perfect, but he was busy watching other people fail, and Daphne was giving her hoop a scowl as if it had insulted her. Susan, on the other hand, was spinning perfectly and it looked as if she might succeed. But the concentration on her face disappeared to surprise as she felt the distinctive pressure build and there was a loud noise as she splinched herself.

At least he knew how not to do it, Harry thought, as he watched the teachers put Susan right.

He shifted on his feet nervously as he stared at the hoop. Harry closed his eyes and cleared his mind. He decided to ignore Twillcross' explanation, he didn't want to confuse his D's and end up like Susan. He would be so concerned with trying to remember that he wouldn't be able to do it. Instead he concentrated on the idea of Apparating. The hoop was a circle. He needed to spin in a circle to land in a circle. Two loops joined together to meet at a single spot like a…

**_CRACK_**

Harry stumbled as he landed; astonished that he had managed to accomplish it on his first attempt. He heard Seamus swear loudly next to him. Twillcross and the teachers rushed over to him.

"Excellent! Truly excellent!" He turned to the rest of the class. "This is what you get if you learn the three D's!" Harry noticed that his other classmates were looking at him with envy. It looked like the next few evenings would be peppered with lots of questions.

"Potter, are you missing any body parts?" McGonagall asked over Twillcross' lecture.

"No, I'm fine." Harry had a revelation earlier, but the thought was slipping away from him quickly.

"Are you certain? Perhaps a body part that we can't see?" Flitwick gave Harry's kneecap an experimental poke with his wand.

"I said, I'm fine," Harry repeated irritably.

Twillcross made him Apparate a few more times to ensure that the first time had not been a fluke. Harry obliged, anxious to leave the Great Hall. It was easy for him, practicing Occlumency had given his mind focus and by now it was second nature. But the revelation he had earlier did not come back, and Harry left the Great Hall troubled.

That night, when Harry went to dinner, he noticed that Dumbldore's chair was empty once again.

_Phineas must be so bored,_ he thought. That in mind, he scarfed up his food and went up to Dumbldeore's empty office. It was a better idea than spending his night answering questions from Blaise and Daphne on Apparation.

"Psst… wake up." He hissed to Phineas as he pulled up a chair. He rolled his eyes when the portrait continued to snore loudly. "Knock it off. I know you are paying attention." Phineas made a great show of coming awake

"Oh, is that you Potter?"

"Yes. It's me. I've come to ask you for some advice."

The portrait became smug. "It's good to get some advice from your betters. I'm glad that you've learned."

"It's about the Horcruxes. " At this several other Headmasters stopped their sleeping act and looked at Harry attentively.

"I think Regulus Black found a Horcrux that belonged to the Dark Lord. In fact, it might have been the reason he died. I was wondering if you saw or heard anything before he disappeared." Many of the Headmasters looked at Phineas, whose face was inscrutable.

"The Dark Lord killed my great-great grandson because of a Horcrux?" There was tightness in his voice; horror mixed with insult. There might have been grief if the portrait was capable of expressing it.

"I found a list in _Secrets of the Darkest Art_ with his handwriting, so either he tried to make one, or he was searching for one. But Slughorn doesn't think he was capable and Voldemort killed him, so I think it was the latter. I don't want to bring it up to anyone unless I know for certain. I don't want to poke around too much either. On the list, Regulus circled the word '_**elf'.**_ The only one I can think of is Kreacher, and I know that Voldemort killed him last year. I don't understand why he would have anything to do with it, but I think it would be too much of a coincidence otherwise."

Phineas spoke up. "I agree. Regulus loved studying magical theory, but when it came to application, well, it wasn't his strong point. It's a pity that you can't talk to him to find out where he may have hidden it. Only institutions bother with creating portraits; the magical requirements are so complex and time-consuming."

Harry mulled Phineas' words as he stood, and stuck his hands in his pocket to brush the silken material of his Invisibility Cloak. There was away to talk to the dead.

The Resurrection Stone.

Normally he would never think of bringing up the subject, but these were portraits. Most of the time the former Headmasters slept, and rarely saw anything interesting. Harry distinctly remembered their excitement when Dumbledore and Cedric escaped the Ministry the previous year, and how freely they had given advice. If he was careful the portraits could work in his favor.

"What did Dumbledore do with the ring he was wearing?"

There were some raised eyebrows but no answer came forth. Harry was reminded that the portraits were obligated to serve the Headmaster. He would need to be honest if there was a chance of him getting what he wanted. "I think there is an enchantment on the stone to raise the dead." There were several cries of astonishment.

"That's nonsense, boy. Raising the dead is bad business. You should stay away from that," cried a gap-toothed man.

Harry scowled. "I know that. I'm not even certain if I'm right anyway. It's only a suspicion. But if it's true that Regulus died to get rid of a Horcrux, I should make certain that it is gone." Harry thought of the wife separated from Cadmus Peverell by a veil. "I know it's dangerous, but I can't see another way."

"Then you should ask Dumbledore to use it," said one.

"Don't be daft Portico. Dumbledore wants nothing to do with the stone. Not after that incident with the ring that nearly cost him his hand."

Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise, he had not inquired about the injury that had caused Dumbledore's hand to be bandaged at all times. Apprehension grew in him; perhaps it was not such a good idea to use the stone after all. But the Headmaster left the ring in plain sight during their first meeting; Dumbledore wouldn't have done that if it were such an obvious danger.

There were a few mumbles and Harry waited patiently for their decision. Eventually one spoke loudly.

"A compromise then, Potter is taking the Headmaster's words seriously and taking an active interest. Therefore we can agree that he would approve of the mission. In return, Potter will use the stone in our presence and we can report to him if there is anything amiss"

Harry looked the at the wizard's robes. They were lined yellow and black. There were a murmur of assent and the Hufflepuff Headmaster spoke again. "It's under the Sorting Hat."

Harry walked over to the hat, lifting it gently to reveal the small black stone. The hat wriggled in his hand.

"Careful what you wish for Potter. What you want is not always what you need."

"An old saying" replied Harry dismissively. He understood what the Sorting Hat was trying to warn him of, but it wasn't needed. The Stone felt cool in his hands as if it had lain outside in the snow, rather than tucked away under an ancient hat. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the photograph of Regulus he had seen at Grimmauld Place.

Harry turned the stone in his hands once...

Twice…

Thrice…

He heard something, a soft rustle like a curtain moving back, and then the portraits mutters. Grasping the stone tightly in his hand, Harry opened his eyes.

The thing that struck Harry the most about Regulus was his appearance. Though he did not carry the transparent quality of ghosts, but there was still something a bit faded in him, as if he had been put in the wash too many times. He was taller than Harry, but differences in age were negligible. It was depressing that someone had died so young. Regulus did not carry the good looks of Sirius' youth, nor did he have the haunted look of Sirius' later years. But the was enough of a resemblance that Harry could see they were related.

In fact, there was a quality about Regulus that Harry could see in Theo Nott. He was plain looking and above average, but there was not anything to distinguish him from the hundreds of other students in the halls of Hogwarts. Harry would be very surprised if Regulus' name was located in the Trophy Room.

"Well, that was a disappointment," said a plump Headmistress.

Harry turned to the wall of portraits in shock. "You can't see him?"

"The stone must have addled your brain, there's no one there!" Phineas replied.

Regulus chuckled.

Harry shook his head and turned to the spirit before him. "Do you know why you are here?"

"I've heard things. There have been many rumors of you, Harry Potter." Regulus looked at Harry, his gaze grave and distant. Harry found it unsettling.

"You see, Voldemort has made more than one Horcrux." Harry explained what he knew, trying to keep the desperation out his voice. "Most people thought that there could only be one. And they have to be found before the Dark Lord is defeated. I need to know, did you find a Horcrux?"

"Yes."

"What did you do with it?"

"Nothing. I died."

Harry deflated. "Oh."

Regulus shuffled on his feet. "I can tell you how I died." There was something ominous about his tone, and Harry became sharply aware that the Stone clenched in his hand was still cool. But such a perfect opportunity to gain advantage over Voldemort could not be denied. So Harry nodded and the brother began his story.

To say it was horrible was an understatement. Each word pulled at Harry's soul, and it sent him deeper into misery. Regulus spoke of his death clearly and without embarrassment. He spoke how his upbringing, his disappointment in his older brother, his discovery of Voldemort's immortality and his own fear. He spoke of Kreacher, the house-elf that nearly died, only to lead Regulus into his own death. He spoke of the potion that provided him with a vision of muggles screaming in pain as his cousin laughed in delight, and of icy hands that wrapped around his body and pulled him into the water. Regulus spoke of not being able to fight back even as the water filled his lungs and how Sirius was playing a game of wizard's chess and his mother was reading The Daily Prophet as he breathed his last.

And when Regulus stopped talking Harry felt as if he could breathe again, and he struggled to move his numb arms to wipe the tears from his face.

"But the locket must still be at Grimmauld Place. Kreacher only died last year. " He struggled to speak.

Regulus said nothing, but continued to look at him with a distant gaze.

"That is the locket and the diary. Thank you! You. This…" Harry longed to shake Regulus' hand, but he felt too tired. Regulus did not smile or laugh, nor did he reach out to Harry. Without that physical or emotional connection Harry's victory felt hollow.

He wondered what time it was, perhaps he should go to bed; he felt a bit tired. "I think it's time that I let you go. Thank you for your help." The stone fell from Harry's hand, and Regulus disappeared.

Harry could understand why the second brother had committed suicide after calling his wife back from the grave. He barely knew Regulus and yet he was moved to tears. The dead knew too much for the living. The stone sat innocently at his feet as his hands grew warm once more.

There was a certain power in the stone that made it so effective. It didn't bring the dead back to life. It only moved the curtain the separated one world from the next. But a doorway once opened can go both ways. Someone so in love with the dead would never noticed that the stone slowly drained your strength until you faded away and death was inevitable.

He was exhausted.

"Well, Potter?" Phineas asked.

"We spoke. It was…" Harry struggled to make his mind work as he searched for the right word. "It was enlightening. I think I might be able to find the locket." He reached down to pick up the Stone and placed it once more underneath the Sorting Hat.

"You are right. Raising the dead is bad business. I won't be doing that again." He told the portraits.

That said, he left the room.

* * *

Harry frowned, he knew that he had another glove but it wasn't in his pocket. He looked around his bed and could not see it; and he squinted at the gap between it and the wall. There was something lumpy in the shadows so he jammed his arm down into the space. There was something soft and something else wedged in. The first object was his missing glove and Harry lowered himself on the floor to pull out the other item as it was too large to fit in the small space. When he surfaced from under the bed, he saw it was the box of chocolates that Hermione warned was poisoned with love potion. Ugh. He had forgotten all about them.

Blaise called out from outside of the dormitory. "Harry, I'm going outside. Hurry up."

Harry shrugged and tossed the chocolates onto his bed, he would have to worry about it later. Right now he had a snowball fight to worry about.

He came back an hour later, his socks had gotten too wet during the fight and he really wanted to change them. The only person in the room was Theo Nott, who was sitting on his bed and mumbling to himself. Harry was halfway done with putting on his second sock when Theo spoke up.

"Harry, you know her don't you?"

"Er, what?" He asked, confused on Theo's sudden familiarity. His housemate had always called him by his surname.

"Romilda Vane."

"Not really." The name was familiar to him, but he couldn't remember where.

"She's so beautiful. So brave."

Theo Nott was one of the most anti-Gryffindor people in the house; these were not qualities he would normally be waxing poetic about. Harry knew there was something amiss. To hear him utter those words well, it was wrong on so many levels.

"I suppose, if you like those sort of things," Harry replied, looking at him with narrowed eyes.

"But she gave you these chocolates! Are you using her?" Theo stood up from the bed, the chocolates tumbling from his lap. Theo's irritation towards his classmate caused him to swipe the sweets from Harry's bed.

Harry swore. He wanted to leave Theo as he was, the image of him professing his everlasting love to Rommy would probably be even better in real life. But Harry would never want such a thing to befall him, and so he knew he had to help. He already killed Theo's grandfather, no need to put more salt on the wound. If Blaise found out about this, it would be circulating the school in minutes, and Theo would resent him even more. Harry sighed and said a few choice words to persuade Theo to Slughorn's office

He gave a sharp rap on the door, and to Harry's surprise, Sirius was the one who answered it.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked in puzzlement as Theo marched in the room to straighten his tie in the mirror.

"I had a conversation with Phineas the other day. I came to ask a few question about my brother," Sirius said the statement nonchalantly even as he gave Harry a stern look. "I'll tell you about it later."

Harry winced "I thought that portraits couldn't mention secrets."

"No. But Phineas is a Slytherin. He made a few comments that incited my curiosity."

Slughorn was already mixing a Potion for Theo. The ridiculous look of joy quickly fell as his sanity returned. Seeing that his classmate was fine, Harry walked over to the wall of photographs that covered the side of the office near the door.

"Feeling better, Theodore?" There was a mumble.

Sirius chuckled. "Excellent. I think this calls for a drink. Avoiding embarrassment is always a good thing."

Harry rolled his eyes; everything seemed to require a drink in celebration for Sirius these days.

"Yes, a good idea Sirius. I have a lovely bottle of mead. I'll get it. Perhaps Harry would like a glass as well."

"No. That probably wouldn't be a good idea. He's not of age yet, and I wouldn't want to get you in trouble," Harry heard Sirius reply.

Harry heard the clinking of the glasses behind him as he looked at a picture of Slughorn standing next to Gilderoy Lockhart. He raised his eyebrows in shock. "Professor you should think about taking this picture down, he is not…" his voice drifted off as he caught sight of Death in the doorway.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

_At this moment Delirium is in California. She's always been rather fond of San Francisco, there is something in the city that makes her feel as if she belongs. Her hair is lopsided today, one side in a buzz cut, the other in a wave of purple curls. From her neck hangs the coin given to her by Harry, it is suspended from her neck by a delicate thread. On this day, there is a festival in the city and Delirium, in her way, manages to convince a man to give her a bag of blue cotton candy. And so she sits in a tree in San Francisco, eating cotton candy, and singing a song. The song isn't always understandable. Some of the words she uses have never been heard on Earth, languages dead before the life formed on the planet._

_But for a second the words can be understood._

"_Luna, Luna Luna… she's my friend that's a moon-a."_

_She lowers herself from the tree to the ground. On her way down, a branch snags the necklace and rips it from her throat. Delirium walks on sidewalk of the park, only to pause when she sees something off in the distance. She begins to walk in that direction, but stops, and her face scrunches with apprehension and uneasiness. Her hands flutter, in a motion of nervousness, and she backs away, traveling on the walkway once more._

_The bag of spun sugar in her hands has turned pink._

_The necklace falls from the branch and lands on the path._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Death was dressed in Muggle clothing, but Harry could see a purple and black uniform tie hanging out of her coat. "What…what are you doing here?" he whispered and she gave him a sad smile. Turning around, he saw Slughorn standing immobile as he stared in horror at the two convulsing bodies.

Harry spun toward Death.

"Poison?" he asked in confirmation and she nodded.

"What can I give them?" Harry asked the Professor, doing his best to ignore the struggled gasps of the two males at his feet. But Slughorn said nothing, and only managed to point to his potions kit that lay open on the table nearby.

And as Harry searched through the bottles, he was aware of Death's approach. There was an odd pressure in his ears, his heart was beating fast and his hands struggled to grasp the miracle cure in his fingers.

If he had asked Blaise to cure Theo, this wouldn't have happened.

If he had kept a bezoar for himself as well, he could have two.

If he had kept the gift of colors from Del, he would have been able to stop it, like he stopped Ginny.

And even as he found the bezoar, he was aware that there were two people dying behind him and only one could live.

Harry turned around and made his choice.

* * *

He felt uncomfortable in the crowd, there were too many people giving him pitying glances even though they should be listening to the speaker. Harry hadn't wanted to come, but it would have seemed churlish of him to not go to Sirius' funeral. At least no one had asked if he wanted to speak, Harry would have said yes out of obligation. But what could he have said that would have been appropriate?

Sirius was a good man, but damaged from wrongful imprisonment in Azkaban. It caused him to drink too much, obsess about the past, and the only thing he lived for was he, Harry. And Harry repaid his dedication by allowing the man to die.

He approached Sirius' body one last time, before it would be placed in the ground. Mrs. Weasley sniffled into a handkerchief behind him. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the pair of mirrors that Sirius had given him the previous year. He had joked that he could not wait for the time when he would not have to use the mirrors anymore. He thought it would come from the end of the war, not because Sirius died. The reasonable thing to do was to keep them; they were still useful. But for this time, he would skip the rational choice and do what he wanted.

Remus came up next to him, "How are you doing?"

"I'll be fine," he replied. _I didn't need him anyway,_ Harry thought. He hadn't told Sirius about the Hallows, and his godfather hadn't had the chance to talk to him about the Horcruxes yet. The Endless hadn't even been brought up. _I didn't need him, _Harry repeated to himself.

The statement failed to comfort him, and his heart gave a twist as Despair snagged her hook into his heart and tugged.

He brushed some of the snowflakes from his shoulders as he walked away from the cemetery in Hogsmeade towards Hogwarts. Ron was walking next to him, and Cedric wasn't far ahead, muttering to the Weasley twins. And every now and then, one of them would give him a glance, to see if he was holding it together.

_Death is the force of equality, look into its eyes and stand proud._

Harry wouldn't cry. He knew that Sirius was fine, Death had come for him and the Resurrection Stone showed there was something beyond life. And one of Sirius' last deeds was to deny Harry a drink and his lips never came near the poisoned liquid, which kept him safe. Sirius kept his promise.

But Despair and Desire worked in tandem making Harry miserable, and there was little he could do about that. Sirius' death was the first loss he had felt since he began Hogwarts, and it was only going to get worse. He had been lucky so far, being able to predict people's reactions by observation and his knowledge of human nature.

But he had been unable to predict poison in a cup, and was forced to choose between his classmate and his godfather. The choice had been easy, the action had been hard.

Perhaps if Harry had kept the gift of colors from Delirium, he would have seen death laced in the cup. He could have stopped Theo and Sirius drinking from the bottle and this would not have happened. Even though Harry knew it was the right choice, it didn't stop him from feeling guilty, or these thoughts from circling his head.

"I feel responsible for this," he said to Ron. "I don't like it."

"You couldn't have known Harry. It wasn't your fault." Ron said awkwardly.

Harry kicked a clump of snow. "I said I was responsible, not that it was my fault. I know the difference."

Someone had put poison in the drink.

"I'll be fine," Harry reassured Ron as they parted in the Entrance Hall.

After all, there was always revenge.

* * *

**A/N:** I had no choice.


	47. Ch 44 The Second Dance of Desire

**Dear Readers,**

I've had this idea from the very beginning, but Harry's past was vague for two reasons. One, I didn't know if I would care enough about the story explain it. Two, I had an basic idea, but I was completely blank on the details. Hey, it only took me… uh, 42 chapters to figure it all out. It was never about the assassins; it was about the Endless.

Three things:

-I listed the chapter locations of some scenes if you want to look them up.

-Part Three Intro was written with this chapter in mind

-The only REAL clue was the knife

Thank you for your Endless patience. :)

**Lu**

**Chapter Forty-Four**

**The Second Dance of Desire**

Love belongs to Desire, and Desire is always cruel.

_The Doll's House_

_

* * *

  
_

Sirius eyed the bottle of mead appreciatively as Slughorn extracted it from the cabinet. It was a pity that Harry couldn't have a taste, but if Snape found out, there was a high probability that Harry would spend the next few weeks in detention. And from what Sirius had heard, the conversations between Snape and Harry were strained already, no need to add more fuel to the flames. Not that Harry had told him, Sirius had heard the gossip from McGonagall.

But that was alright because it meant there was more mead for him. And Sirius had a feeling that he would need it. Slughorn and he had barely begun conversing about Horcruxes and Regulus when Harry arrived. He was in for a long night. Perhaps he would order some food from the house-elves, he was beginning to want something to eat. Sirius admired the glass of amber liquid that the Professor handed him and raised it to his lips.

There was something wrong with the taste, it was something he noticed immediately. But before he could say anything, it had become too difficult to breathe.

Sirius could feel the poison in his body as he gasped for breath. The pain seared through his stomach and arms, and he found himself staring at the ceiling as his body collapsed. In an oddly inappropriate way Sirius couldn't help but think that Slughorn would be disappointed in having his velvet carpet ruined by a corpse. Then the pain stopped.

Sirius opened his eyes fully and found himself in a deep red room. Desire was sprawled on a large bed, a plush blanket wrapped provocatively around its body.

"Am I dead?" Sirius asked in wonder.

"No. Not yet," replied Desire. "We have a small deal, and it will be difficult for me to complete it if you go off with my eldest sister first."

"Oh. I thought you had forgotten," Sirius said in relief.

A smile flashed across Desire's face. "I didn't forget. I had to wait for the right moment in order to complete it. I swore by the circle that I would help you and I'm not going to break that promise. Unfortunately, you managed to get yourself poisoned before that opportunity arrived. "

"So you'll give me what I want? But why didn't you do that before?" asked Sirius.

Desire's golden eyes glinted. "_Give you what you want?_ You know who I am, why ever would I do that? And that was not the deal I made with you. We agreed that I would help you be there when Harry needed you. But there was a small detail that you failed to notice." Desire rose from the bed and walked over to a small table to light a cigarette. Smoke rose lazily from the end.

"Sirius Black, _Harry never needed you_. Not while Lily Potter's blood flowed through his veins. Her death provided a protection so powerful that little magics like yours have no hope of breaking. Harry needing someone… that never would have happened."

Sirius looked at Desire, not being able to comprehend what the entity's words meant. And then he had an odd vision, of how he would like those pair of lips to press on his, teasingly and then insistently, dominating him and making him beg for just one more taste…

Desire's lips curved into a coy smile.

Sirius scowled. "Don't read my thoughts."

"I don't read your thoughts." Desire pressed a hand gently on Sirius' chest. "I feel your heart."

"What do we do now?" Sirius asked, as he felt it thump wildly in his chest. There was an odd tension in his body, and he began to fear he had done something horribly wrong.

"Well, it means that I have to change things. We have to go back when you can help him, to make him need you."

Their surroundings shifted, and they left the temple of Desire's realm to appear on a rooftop. Desire was on Sirius' right, the smoke from its cigarette failed to mask the faint smell of peaches. Sirius looked over the edge of the rooftop and saw a large blond dot cross a street oblivious to the traffic below. A small black dot followed and bumped with the blond, avoiding a collision with an oncoming car.

"That dot is Harry, and he just met my prodigal brother. The Fourth."

Sirius frowned as he tried to recall in which order of the Endless aligned themselves. "Destruc..."

"DON'T say his name," it hissed angrily. "You just might summon him here, and that would be disastrous for you and me." Desire dropped the cigarette and stamped on it in frustration. "When Harry met my brother, a small break in between the worlds was formed. Do you see those two men standing over there? Those men want to be kings. They have power and skill and attempted to take it from their leader. However, their attempt failed, and now they are hiding here. Their hearts are filled with ambition and greed, it wasn't hard to convince them to come this direction, not when you have power like mine. Those men will make Harry need you."

Sirius looked at the black dot. It was tiny. "We're in the past."

"Not quite. This is the present. You are from the future. Well, _**A**_ future."

Time wound forward in a haze, but Sirius was aware of everything that occurred. The two men cajoled and lied and manipulated their way to gain Harry.

"Who are they?" asked Sirius in horror as the two men taught Harry how poison people.

"Does it matter? It's not anyone you would know and they aren't important."

"Yes," argued Sirius.

"It's just your standard Croup and Vandemar." Desire continued at Sirius' blank expression. "You know, thugs. Another pair of hired hands who play with blades thinking they have power. These are better trained than most, but they are not that special from anyone else that has come before them."

_It was Harry's eight birthday, and he killed a nine- year-old boy whose eyes were green._

"This isn't what I wanted!"

Desire gave a sharp laugh. "I am not in the business of giving people what they want. I am giving you the tools to succeed, but it is entirely up to you if it works or not. The future that you know so well will only exist if you **make** it happen. Our agreement was that I make certain that you are there when Harry needs you, no more, no less."

_Harry searched through a dead man's house, searching in the drawers. He withdrew a small silver object and left. He presented the object to the two men, who laughed and hung the object in a hallway._

Time moved forward. The moments when Harry's heart broke, squeezed in fear, or burned with pure desire shone out, so that all the other moments in time blurred away.

"Why are you doing this?" Sirius insistent questioning finally broke Desire's patience.

"You read the book about my family and you still don't get it," it snarled. "This is what my family does. We make the world that could have been, that should have been, disappear so it never was. Do you honestly believe that I cared about you? There are hundreds of worlds. Those men out there have power but it is not anything that you would have recognized. They have kept it secret like you keep your magic secret from other humans, the muggles. Right now there is a society hidden below London where rats are treated with respect and a fallen angel is called a prophet. Right now you are in Azkaban and you can barely remember your name, much less think about escaping. Right now the planet doesn't exist because it was demolished to make room for an inter-planetary highway. And right now there is a woman writing a book about a boy with a lightening bolt scar and it is completely made up.

"Beyond this world there are different planets and suns, universes. Time stretches out behind you for billions of years and what is yet to come." Desire raised her hands in celebration, as if it sought to embrace the sky. "These worlds overlap and intertwine and you can't see them because **you are small**. But I can see their hearts and they are all unique to me.

"Dream wouldn't help you because he's _boring_. What is more, you have nothing to offer him. You have spent so much time in that prison with my sister Despair that your heart beats weakly. Your wishes mean little to me, and you lack anything to make you extraordinary. The only reason I agreed is because your deal was because of Harry. I was not going to waste such a perfect opportunity to claim him as mine."

Sirius listened to Desire's speech in horror, and watched as Harry's acts of violence became more gruesome and methodical. And then came a change.

A man approached the house where Harry and the two monsters lived. He was tall, with blond hair, but streaked it was streaked with grey. Sirius wasn't certain if that was because of age or stress. The strange man entered the house and the scene faded as Desire drew Sirius attention once more by caressing his cheek.

"You'll be staying here. Someone had searched for the thugs and he was finally successful. There was a fight and now all three men are dead. No one knows about Harry, and the only person that can help him is _you_."

Sirius stumbled as his heart gave a sharp twist. There was a tightening sensation and then he found himself on the floor of the house, his chest drenched in warm blood.

Desire looked down at him. "Since your body is presently trapped in Azkaban, and your future body is dying from poison, you'll have to take a new one. There are two rules to our arrangement Sirius, and be careful that you don't break them.

"One, you can help Harry whenever he needs you. And two, your desires are keeping you alive." Desire bent down and pressed a kiss on his forehead, dry and soft, before disappearing in a haze.

Sirius stood up shakily and looked at his surroundings. It was a sparsely furnished room, plain walls, and few chairs. And then he turned the corner.

The entire hallway was covered in mirrors.

Some were small, others large. Some had a tint of color, and some had jagged edges where they had been broken from larger sections. They were trophies; all stolen from the homes of their victims.

Harry's voice drifted in his mind, whispered from his past. _"I don't like mirrors."_

Sirius' heart beat strongly as he took that first step down the hallway. And then he saw something completely unexpected and frightening. Despair was watching him through the mirrors, the boundary that separated the waking world from her realm. Fear and misery grew in him, and his heart skipped a beat, causing him to stumble. Then Despair disappeared, and he could see himself properly. He was wearing dark clothes and a mask covered his face. Sirius raised his hands to remove it, but paused.

Harry didn't know him. He wanted to tell Harry the truth, that the Endless were dangerous and old and that they were after him. But this Harry was young and broken and had picked up a number of unsavory habits. And what Sirius wanted wasn't what Harry needed. And Sirius couldn't tell him who he actually was, because that would cause all sorts of questions. Questions that he couldn't answer because the truth was shameful.

He kept the mask on.

There was a knife in his gut, the one used to kill the man whose body Sirius was now in. The blade had no effect on Sirius, whose heart beat steadily regardless of the obstruction. When he removed it the wound sealed.

He approached the door, knowing that his godson sat on the other side, broken from the games of the Endless and his own stupidity.

Then he opened the door and lied.

He explained that he was here to fix Harry because of how the two assassins had treated him. Perhaps, if Harry had thought to ask, Sirius might have revealed his name. But the broken child before him did not ask, and he could not volunteer such knowledge. He walked away from the room, expecting to hear Harry follow him. When it did not happen, he called out from the hallway.

"Get up. I was hoping to get something to eat sometime today." It was another lie; that feeling of hunger he had in Slughorn's office had disappeared, replaced by a desire of another kind. He only said that because he wished it were true.

Sirius had a lot of work to do.

* * *

_It can be easy to believe that Desire of the Endless will assist with your goals, but remember this: Desire is never satisfied with less than everything. -Part Three Intro

* * *

  
_

He couldn't believe that Harry had already killed one of his classmates after two weeks in school. The staff believed that it was an accident, but Sirius was not so naive. They would have to move somewhere else.

"What do you have to say for yourself?"

"Look death straight in the eyes and stand proud." Harry responded mechanically.

Words struggled to come from Sirius' mouth; Harry's response was so ingrained. He believed it to be the truth; and there was no arguing with it. How was Sirius supposed to compete with a belief system that strong?

The answer came to him appallingly slow. He needed to change Harry's understanding of Death. Most viewed it as a fearful thing, and the assassins had taught Harry to use it as a force of revenge. But Sirius could attest that Death wasn't the worst thing that could happen. It was preferable to a life in Azkaban or thrown in the past after making a horrible mistake.

It was a starting point, to change Harry's interpretation of the statement. Sirius claimed that the assassins used it to forgive themselves as they caused wrong, but it was really meant to be an understanding that Death brings equality to all.

Harry looked at him dubiously. **_"_Death is the force of equality, look into its eyes and stand proud**," he repeated slowly, chewing the words as he tested out Sirius' explanation.

And there was a glimpse of the godson he was familiar with, a pensive boy, too serious for his age. It didn't last long though, but it was enough to secure Sirius determination.

He knew he had to bring that person forth.

Over the next few months, Sirius became very familiar with the two rules of his agreement with Desire. He didn't have magic; the blood protection in Harry was enough. He didn't need to eat because it had no purpose, and the food lacked flavor every time he did. But he could speak any language as long as it was required to communicate. Money wasn't an issue either because Desire had made him a lucky man. He frequently found abandoned wallets, expensive items that could be traded for money, or was able to do a favor to gain a meal and a resting spot.

He could not get angry, sad, happy, or express any of the other emotions that made him human. There was only the desire to ensure that Harry would be fine. The joy of success flickered for a second before it faded back into nothingness and more want. And any time that Sirius ventured too far from Need into Want, his heart would flutter and weaken. Fulfilling his desires would get him killed.

And so Sirius had to repair Harry into the person he had known. His godson did not laugh and the person that teased him seemed so distant and impossible. He was a silent child who was prone to fits of anger that resulted in violence. In Portugal, Harry killed a neighbor's dog because it had a tendency of barking at night. As a result, Sirius had begun to teach Harry Occlumency, knowing that the form of meditation would help out and that he would need the skill in the future to keep away Voldemort's thoughts. There was something else as well. Harry had latched on to Sirius' lesson of death quickly, repeating it frequently. Because it seemed to make Harry better, or at least a little saner, Sirius sought to replicate the effects with another saying. For weeks he thought of something clever to say. It had to be profound yet vague.

**To know yourself is to be powerful, to know others is to be wise. To know both is to be a gift.**

Sirius also chose to twist a sentence that he had heard in his own past. It was one of Regulus' favorite phrases and Sirius found it incredibly irritating at the time.

_There is no right and wrong. There is only power and those too weak to seek it._

It was inevitable that Harry would hear something like this in the future. Voldemort was still around as some sort of spirit, after all. If Harry didn't have a strong sense of morality before entering Hogwarts there would be no hope for him. And Sirius knew there was a great deal of truth to the statement as well. The Endless were not people, and their sense of right and wrong was deeply skewed by the depth of their power. To Sirius, he was greatly wronged, but to them, he was little more than a means to an end. Expendable.

Sirius thought bitterly of his own experience. _The Power of Dreams_ had warned him of making a deal, but he had been so desperate that he ignored the truth. It made him wonder how many had fallen to the same fate as he; their stories lost in history, so that no one had known the truth. This revelation, as disturbing as Sirius thought it was, was something he needed to share with Harry.

There were already traits that showed the Endless were influencing Harry. He spoke in nonsensical sentences that only seemed to make sense in retrospect. He didn't like mirrors because they formed the boundaries of Despair's realm. Did Harry look at a mirror, and see Despair claw at her skin with a hook, leaving trails of blood and tears? Dream had turned down Sirius' request to bargain for Harry's safety. The third member of the Endless had told him it was best to take such a gamble and to trust in Harry's abilities. Sirius had been furious at the time. In retrospect, Sirius could see it was because Dream already had some sort of investment and didn't see the point in pursuing the matter further.

And Desire had mentioned that Harry had already met the fourth member of the family. Not to mention there was the prophecy that linked Harry to Voldemort in some way. It was inevitable that Harry would meet them sooner or later. And if Harry thought he was equal to them, it would be his downfall. But if he taught Harry what power was and wasn't, Harry might make the right choice.

So he dropped the 'k' in seek.

**There is no right and wrong. There is only power and those too weak to see it.**

"Do you mean it is like in fairy tales when a champion wins not because he stronger, but because he is more clever?"

Sirius recognized the curious tone and the gleam in Harry's eye. These were the signs of a boy about to be sorted in Slytherin.

He wanted cry.

He wanted cheer.

He wanted to tell Harry that he was incredibly clever and could do some wonderful things as long as he stayed away from the Endless.

"Yes," he replied in a dry monotone.

_

* * *

You asked me to give you what you need, and I am. You should have asked me to give you what you want. It's not the same thing. Goodbye, Delores. –OWN

* * *

  
_

Harry took to repeating these sentences as well, but it didn't do much. There was still a slump to his shoulders and a blank expression that was wrong on child's face. Sirius knew he was failing. But one day, they passed a bookstore. Sirius turned around when he realized that Harry had fallen behind.

"I like stories," his godson murmured in explanation, ducking his head down.

Sirius saw an opening, and he ushered Harry inside.

Slowly progress was made through stories. Harry began to need him less and less. Sirius began to disappear. He would be walking down a street and suddenly found himself standing at the edge of Desire's realm. And as he stood next to the Desire temple made of flesh and blood he would think of the Endless. Despair and Desire had manipulated and twisted him, and now they had their sights set on Harry.

Sirius wanted to warn Harry, but…

He waited for the flutter of his heart and the light-headedness that always warned him when he was crossing the line between want and need. It didn't happen. For the first time since traveling back what he wanted and needed were the same. A smile flitted across his face.

He could give Harry one more phrase. If he were to come right out and mention the Endless he might die even before the sentence was finished. That would drive Harry to search for who they were and end up in their arms. It would have to be a subtle warning, hidden as a moral code.

He thought of the sentence that had gotten him into this mess, the one he had loved so much as a child.

_For there are ways around everything and the Lord of Stories could create them all._

Harry loved stories and Sirius wouldn't begrudge the thing that was allowing his godson to have hope and to live. Nor did he have an issue with Dream, he had been warned by the somber entity to leave things alone.

No, the real problem was Desire; she-he was the one so keen to play games.

**There are ways around everything, but perhaps not in the way you desire.**

Harry had already turned ten when they arrived in Paris. Sirius knew that Harry would have to spend some time enrolled in an actual school, so he would be ready for Hogwarts the next year. He found a small apartment and paid it off for a year with the winnings of a half-hearted bet.

There was a ragged man in a nearby park with a puppy at his feet. He was feeding the pigeons and talking to the dog. With a jolt, Sirius realized that he recognized the man. He had met him before, during the summer between Harry's third and fourth year. He ran with the dog in the park in his Animagus form, while Harry and the man sat on a park bench.

Sirius brought Harry to Paris to help him now.

Harry would bring Sirius to Paris to help him it the future. It was a circle created by the Endless. Cause and effect had mingled together, intertwining so it was impossible to tell which came first. It was odd to think that time was winding down and soon his past and the present would collide. But it was a comforting sight; maybe it meant he was succeeding.

He wanted to talk to the man, and his feet let him walk there, and his heart did not skip a beat.

"Hello," Sirius said emotionlessly, despite the thumping of his heart.

"Greetings to you; good, dog man."

Sirius blinked, unable to understand how the insane man was able to recognize him. He wanted to say a lot of things, but the words were stuck in his throat.

"Watch out for Harry," was the only thing that came out.

Then he landed back in Desire's realm, forced to watch the rest of the year play out. The man and his dog were agents of Delirium, one more member of the Endless involved in his godson's life. It was one more member of the Endless in Harry's life. But the insane man did not have any malicious intent; he made certain that Harry had enough food and sometimes telling nonsensical stories. They made little sense to Sirius, but Harry seemed to enjoy them. And so, through schoolwork, timid friendship and time, Harry began to fit in.

Three weeks before Harry's Hogwarts letter, Sirius ended up back in the waking world. Harry had changed a lot over the year, adapting to his surroundings in the school. It was a large change from the boy who had killed one of his fellow classmates not even two years ago.

Sirius asked a few questions; curious about what thing had influenced Harry's dramatic change the most. To his surprise, it turned out to be Occlumency. The Harry from his future was not so keen on the practice, and Sirius didn't know if this was a good sign or not.

The next morning he left the country, leaving a note to say that he would return. There were a number of arrangements he had to make; among them was having a proper conversation with the Dursleys.

Vernon Dursley answered the door. "What do you want?"

"I've come to talk about Harry." Vernon might have been a large man, but Sirius was still taller in his borrowed body, and the man grudgingly let him in Number Four. Sirius made no mention of the assassins. He was certain that the Dursleys would kick Harry out if they knew how easily their nephew could kill them, but Sirius also knew that it was unlikely to happen, Harry didn't care enough about the Dursleys to bother.

Instead, he talked about Hogwarts, and how they would have to write to the Dumbledore so Harry would have the key in order to get into the Gringotts vault.

Vernon's eyes narrowed in greed. "The boy has money?"

"Yes, in an account that can only be accessed by him. I know it is enough to pay for the school. You won't have to worry about him taking any of your bank account." Vernon nodded, squirming in his chair unhappily at the abruptness of Sirius' tone.

Sirius took that has as a sign that he should leave.

He left Harry at the Leaky Cauldron as he went to pick up the key to the Gringott's vault, and informed the Dursleys that they would be responsible for picking up Harry from Hogwarts. It did not appeal to either Petunia or Vernon.

"Why don't you pick him up?"

"I'm dying," Sirius replied shortly. His heartbeat had been feeble since he returned to the waking world from Desire's realm, and he knew that his time was running out.

"What about the others? Those men we first met?" Petunia Dursley waved her dishcloth in exasperation.

"I believe their deal with you was only until Harry was eleven," Sirius replied, uncertain if it was the truth but not interested anyway. Petunia frowned unhappily.

Sirius reached into his pocket. "Around December an owl will arrive at your house so that you can send Harry a Christmas gift. I need you to send this." He placed the specially made tablet on the table. "It's crucial that Harry receives it, as it will be important for him later."

Vernon huffed. "Then why don't you send it yourself? I don't want those ruddy owls at my house."

"I'm dying" Sirius repeated once more. Vernon's face turned red in embarrassment.

Petunia picked up the tablet that had the Four Lessons inscribed on it. "Very well. Is that all? Or were you going to take up more of our time?"

Sirius shook his head, and left Privet Drive for the last time.

The trip to Diagon Alley was largely uneventful, Harry blended in easily with the dozens of other children that were going to Hogwarts. Sirius tried to encourage Harry to pick up more books, hoping that there would be more stories that Harry could examine to reinforce his morals. But Sirius did manage to remove the edition of _The Power of Dreams_ that was tucked innocently under a copy of _The Tales of Beedle the Bard,_ quite certain that Harry did not need any more encouragement when it came to the Endless.

As he watched Harry get measured for his robes, his heart began to beat strangely, its odd rhythm made him feel ill. Sirius decided to leave Madame Malkin's to get some air. It helped somewhat. Having no desire to return to the shop, Sirius walked down to look at the various shops. He wanted to give Harry a gift, but he wasn't certain what would qualify. It had to be useful, and have another purpose or else the power that kept him alive wouldn't hold. It was a tradition to get first years an owl, but Sirius knew that Harry didn't really have anyone to write to. Not to mention Harry had more experience killing things than keeping them alive.

He entered a shop that looked interesting from the window, uncertain of what he would find. Sirius recognized the place immediately. He had had been in there many times in order to buy doxy repellant when Grimmauld Place was cleared. It was a shop filled with useful things; there were traps, enchanted bags, sneakoscopes. Sirius headed for a glass case in the front, his hand tensing as he approached aware of what might find.

The knife.

Sirius had agonized over a gift for Christmas during his first year of freedom, during Harry's fourth year. It drove Remus crazy, and his friend ultimately took Sirius to Diagon Alley to search for the present. Remus had suggested buying the knife, as it had a dual purpose and it might be useful since Harry was in the Triwizard Tournament. Sirius had nearly purchased it, quite pleased with the suggestion. But when he tested the blade, he remembered the sound of it flicking open and pressed against his throat. Harry already had such a knife, and had nearly killed him with it when they first met.

Sirius had wondered how Harry had received it. It turned out it was his doing along.

_

* * *

Siruis Black sits at his kitchen table drinking a glass of Firewhiskey. He recognizes the look on his godson's face from Azkaban, and laments once more that he was too late for Harry. Half drunk, Sirius makes a promise that he will be there when Harry needs him. It is a promise he will keep. The Turning Point

* * *

  
_

On September first they arrived at Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Sirius was aware of every beat of his heart; it was growing weaker and weaker. He nearly stumbled once, and caught himself on Harry's shoulder. The boy looked at him in surprise, and Sirius muttered a goodbye.

He saw Harry enter the train with an eager look on his face. Sirius heart ached and he walked away of the platform, heading towards the Muggle station. He nearly bumped into the Weasley family as they exited. Exhaustion was settling into his body and he searched for the nearest seat, a plastic chair that had an old piece of gum stuck to the seat. He took a gasp of air; it was getting difficult to breathe.

He closed his eyes…

The uncomfortable plastic chair disappeared from underneath him, and it was replaced with a plush velvet carpet. He opened his eyes and found himself once more at Hogwarts, the mead wet on his fingers. The boy he said goodbye to minutes ago was before him once more, older and wiser. Harry's back was to him, and Sirius could hear a rattle as he searched through Slughorn's potions. Then Harry turned around; and bent down towards Sirius. There was a bezoar in his hand, and as he was about to place it in Sirius' mouth, Harry jerked back abruptly. There was a look in Harry's eyes that shocked Sirius, a raw mix of fear and guilt that he had never seen before.

For a moment, Sirius thought he might have succeeded.

But his joy was brief as the emotion disappeared from Harry's eyes, and turned into a blank, uncaring face. Sirius struggled to say something, _wanting_ one last word.

Then Harry turned away from him.

Sirius noticed that the poison didn't hurt at all. Desire had taken away everything from him, even pain.

Sirius wanted to die, all too aware of his failure.

He closed his eyes, and for a brief second he knew satisfaction.

.

.

.

And then he saw Her.

"Hello, Sirius. I've been waiting for you." And she smiled.

* * *

He talks about stories. _My brother_. Well let me tell you the plot of every one of his **damned** stories. Somebody **wanted **something. Mostly they get it too.

~Desire in _Endless nights_

_

* * *

_**Chapter Numbers are according to site **

The Guardian appears in chapters 3-5

The four lessons are listed in chapter 9

Sirius and Harry are in Paris in chapter 23

The classmate death is referenced in chapter 26

**Next Chapter: **The meaning of numbers


	48. Ch 45 The Meaning of Numbers

**Chapter Forty-five**

**The Meaning of Numbers**

_I didn't say it was my fault. I said it was my responsibility. I know the difference._

Rose Walker in _The Kindly Ones

* * *

  
_

Harry was a watch.

The gears inside of him were that of human nature; and because of this his timing was impeccable. If he wanted to pass by unnoticed, Harry would wait for someone's attention to slip. He could know the rhythm of a person's heart, and match it with the tap of his own fingertips so the echo would drive a person mad. He could tell exactly how long it would take for before a man would break down and reveal his secrets.

But lately he had been aware of a change in the air. A pressure had been building for some months now, and it only got worse when Sirius died. As a result, Harry had begun to carry the bag of sand in his pocket.

He was certain he would need it.

Soon.

* * *

Harry was very aware of the odd tension in the room the moment he walked into the Friday meeting. He ignored it, hoping that the pressure and unease he felt was a product of his imagination. But soon enough, as people began to pair up and drift into their own conversations, he could see that it was real. Everyone's motions were too practiced, lacking that odd pause right before conversation. And there was a hesitance in Hannah's shoulders even as she marched towards him.

"How are you Harry?" she asked as she tucked her skirt under her thighs in nervousness.

"I'm fine," he replied. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that Ron, Hermione, Daphne, and Blaise were gathered in a circle nearby. Considering their highly contentious friendship, Harry found this seating arrangement suspicious. He was willing to bet there was an Extendable Ear under his chair, so they could listen to his replies.

Hannah looked at him. "When I heard what happened, I thought it was awful. I only met Sirius Black once, but he was really a lot of fun."

"Hmm…" Harry hummed in reply. _Why was she telling him this?_ "Yes, well. It's a war. We always knew that there was a possibility."

"I haven't really told anyone this, but a few weeks ago my mother was attacked by Death Eaters. It was luck that she survived, your godfather was there at the time. It was getting late, and if they had arrived five minutes later," Hannah's voice became very small, "she might not have made it. I don't know what I would have done if she was killed."

Harry looked at Hannah impassively. There were tears in her eyes, the drops clinging to the lashes. "You probably would have cried."

He heard a snort of laughter from Ron, followed by the sound of Hermione smacking him.

Hannah rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "Sirius Black was a good man and I'm sorry for your loss."

"Thank you, I guess."

"Urgh! What do you mean you guess?" Hermione called out, revealing her eavesdropping.

Harry shrugged. "I'm fine," he repeated. They continued to look at him with doubt, so he smiled his practiced method for putting people at ease. But the people before him didn't seem to buy it. "I'm not lying," he said, affronted by their looks of concern.

"Of course you are telling the truth," Daphne replied, "you don't tell lies. But it's not a lie if you _believe_ it. However, it doesn't make you right."

"Ideas," Harry said tersely, "shape reality."

"A reality that can be torn apart by a single grain of truth," Blaise argued. Harry glared at him.

Hannah cleared her throat. "Don't get mad at us Harry, we're only worried about you. Friends help each other out."

"I appreciate it, but it isn't needed."

Ron spoke up. "Yeah, we know. That's sort of the problem. Most people aren't so calm. It's not… normal."

Harry stiffened. "Oh, I see. Well, in that case, if you'll excuse me, I'll be leaving you and you _normal_ people alone."

"Harry, Ron didn't mean it like that," Hermione said in exasperation.

"I know exactly what he meant by that," Harry said icily. And with that he left the room, closing the door with a firm snap. He didn't need to be chastised because he wasn't grieving. Sirius was fine. He was fine.

And there was nothing more to it than that.

* * *

The matter was dropped, although Harry could tell it was a conversation that Hermione was eager to continue. But every time that look came upon her face, Lavender would give her a gentle nudge and Hermione would turn away. February gave way to March, and it had only been a couple of weeks since the aborted intervention he was approached once more by someone else.

"Why did you pick me?"

Harry swore as Theo cornered him as he was coming back from a bath. Harry had managed to avoid his classmate for some time, but now that Theo had been released from the hospital wing he was unavoidable.

He eyed the doorway; trying to figure out the odds that he would be able to escape or for Theo get the hint and drop the subject. Harry glanced at Theo's face, and saw determination, and sighed.

"I sat in that bed for days trying to figure out why you chose to save me. You killed my grandfather. Not you, _The Prophet_, or anyone else can convince me that it was an accident. Black was your godfather, so why me? You owe me an answer."

Harry clenched his eyes as he searched for the correct response to Theo's question. There were a number of reasons to why Harry had acted as he did, some of them Harry himself was uncertain about. He wanted to save Sirius and tactically an adult wizard with dueling experience who was better than a decent but barely-of-age wizard. But Sirius was an adult and had already known his time was limited. He had accepted the risk of fighting the war, not once but twice. A great deal of Sirius' life had been sucked out by the dementors and time had not healed the wounds in him.

In the end, it was Harry's chocolates that caused Theo to be poisoned. When Harry said he hadn't killed the elder Nott for revenge he meant it. Truth be told, Theo Nott had done nothing to have his life ended. And Harry only came across this revelation because he had used the Resurrection Stone. Theo reminded him of Regulus. Perhaps if Harry had not used the stone he would have picked otherwise. It was too late now, and he was left with a dead godfather, and an ungrateful classmate.

"I saved you because I hate the idea of feeling guilty every time I wake up and see your empty bed."

"And Black?"

"He knew what he was getting into," Harry replied. Having to repeat this was getting on his nerves, why didn't people believe him? Theo must have seen the irritation on his face and he excused himself quickly, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

Harry kicked a nearby chair in frustration.

* * *

Harry received the summons for his next meeting with Dumbledore in early March. He was grateful for the message, he longed to get back into uncovering the truth of Voldemort's past, and to stop the feeling of desperation that was in the air. Unfortunately, there was something he needed to accomplish before then, and that was to talk to Slughorn. He had barely spoken to his Potions professor since the incident. Most of the classes they ignored each other, neither brave enough to speak to the other, which suited Harry just fine.

When Slughorn answered the door, the affable face immediately tuned grim, and he moved from the doorway to allow Harry inside without a word. Harry stepped inside and noticed that Slughorn had bought a new rug since he last visited.

"I was wondering when you would come here," Slughorn said as he handed Harry a drink. "You don't have to worry about any poison in that; I have the house-elves sample the drinks now."

Harry frowned into the glass. "You shouldn't do that, their lives matter as well."

Slughorn looked at him shrewdly, "Is that what you believe?"

"We all die in the end," Harry replied. He meant for the statement to come out profound, but the dour atmosphere made it sound nihilistic. "I suppose it doesn't matter, whoever poisoned the drink won't be making that attempt anymore."

"Yes, true." Slughorn rattled the ice in his glass. "Still, I'd rather risk their lives than mine."

Harry let the statement go, too exhausted to argue. "I need the memory."

"What will you give me?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"The last time you promised that I could keep the recollection to myself. You are going against your word. Nowadays, that is the difference between a friend and an enemy."

Harry looked at Slughorn aghast. "I am not going against my word."

His professor continued to look at him with narrowed eyes. "I fail to see how this is true."

Harry stood up; the glass clutched in his hand tightly. "Things change," he growled. "When I told you that you could keep the memory, Sirius was still alive. He died here!" Harry pointed to the rug that he was certain covered the stain left from the poisoned mead. "There were two people dying and what did you do? **Nothing.** You did nothing!"

A strain of anger had entered Harry's voice and he hated the show of weakness. Now that he started speaking of the incident, he couldn't help but recall the look of desperation in Sirius' eyes. He had wanted to give the bezoar to Sirius, but the Resurrection Stone taught him otherwise. And so he had turned away, and refused to look at Sirius even when he was certain that the man was dead. Instead, Harry had rushed to the hospital wing to get some help for Theo and reported the incident to Dumbledore. By the time he had returned to Slughorn's office, Sirius had been moved. "You could have done something to slow the effects of the poison, and I could have gone down to get another bezoar. I can run fast, you know. "

He swallowed hard.

"But instead, you just stood there. And you made me choose between my godfather and a classmate. And if I hadn't been there, both of them would have died. Inaction can be a death sentence."

Slughorn looked at him with a pale face, his hands clutching his expensive alcohol. Harry hated everything about the man at that moment, for making him show the weakness of emotion, Slughorn's attempts to gain a favor, and how the man's rotund belly were the signs of a soft life. Harry threw his glass in anger, and it whizzed just above the professor's head, and it shattered in the fireplace with a satisfying crash.

"Things change," Harry repeated once more.

(He was unaware of the double meaning in his words, that this was the lesson the Prodigal had taught him. That every new beginning meant the end of something. If he had, Harry would have been aware of his own slow ruin, and fled; because cowards make poor heroes.)

Slughorn looked at Harry with watery eyes, and then nodded. He walked over to his potions kit and withdrew a small vial, depositing a wisp of something silver. Slughorn gave it to Harry with a squeeze to his arm.

"I'm sorry."

Harry drew back, unable to speak. The room felt too small and he felt slightly claustrophobic in Slughorn's room, so he tucked the vial in his pocket and he left.

He walked back to the Slytherin Common Room, only to pause at the Entrance Hall. He didn't feel like going inside, it was still the weekend, so people would be louder than normal. Blaise would probably rattle in his ear with some gossip he had lifted in attempts to help to Harry's mind off of things. But he didn't feel like hearing gossip, he felt like…_talking_.

Harry leaned against the wall with a sigh. Perhaps he could go to the Room of Requirement and use the secret exit to visit Ariana. Seeing her smile would remind him of things he had forgotten. Perhaps explaining some lessons of the Endless would help make everything better. Or he could visit Phineas, Harry knew the portrait would be distressed his family line had ended. And Phineas would be willing to slap Harry out of his own self-flagellation and bring focus.

Harry looked at the vial on his hands once more.

_At what point had his closest confidants become portraits, _he wondered.  
_

* * *

  
_

The next day, Harry placed the vial on Dumbledore's desk without a word, and the Headmaster beamed at Harry.

"Excellent, I knew that you could do it. We will view that memory properly later, but first I have two more to show you. This shows part of Tom Riddle's life as he left Hogwarts. The first is a memory about a woman named Hepzibah Smith taken from her house-elf."

Harry noticed the flash of red in Tom's eye when he saw the Hufflepuff Cup, the man's career choice making sense.

"More trophies?" he asked Dumbledore, never removing his eyes from Riddle's form.

"One would guess," the Headmaster confirmed.

"What happened to the woman?"

"Like many of Voldemort's victims, she was murdered. The house-elf admitting to lacing Hepzibah's tea with something and the matter was settled, although the locket and cup were never found."

"And if one is suspicious of Tom Riddle, the ending is incomplete but somewhat predictable," Harry responded. Sirius had known of more of Umbridge's death simply by knowing Harry's nature and reading a headline from the paper. At the time, Harry was amazed, but now that he was practicing the same method on Voldemort. He was yanked from his thoughts as Dumbledore poured another memory in the Pensive.

"This second memory is one of my own, in which Tom Riddle came to ask for a job as the new Defense Professor."

A shudder ran down his spine when Voldemort entered, his face drastically different from the young man Harry had seen minutes ago. Gone was the charming young man, cautious but greedy. This was the emergence of a Dark Lord, arrogant, greedy, and cruel. He and Voldemort were a lot alike, but now Harry could see the statement and its multiple meanings.

It was a clue, an observation, an advantage, but mostly it was a warning.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, breaking the silence of Harry's thoughts. Harry looked up to see Dumbledore giving him a look of curiousity. "And now we watch the memory from our own professor Slughorn."

"_Wouldn't it be better, make you stronger, to have your soul in more pieces, I mean, for instance, isn't seven the most powerfully magical number, wouldn't seven-?"_

Harry swore. He already knew that Voldemort had split his soul, Slughorn had confirmed as much. But seven? That was far too much.

Harry clenched his hands tightly in shock at the enormous task before him. He thought that Voldemort had made only two. The diary was just as much a weapon as anything. It certainly had a risk of being discovered for what it really was. He had assumed that Voldemort had created a spare to ensure his safety. But he had never dreamed that he would have gone so high to place the rule of magical numbers on it.

"He made seven Horcruxes," Harry said dazedly when they exited the Pensieve . He looked up to Dumbledore, hoping that the man would correct him.

"It is my belief that Voldemort intended to create six Horcruxes, letting the seventh piece of his soul reside in his body."

"Oh, so I'm off by one." Harry's mistake was a small victory, but it did little to ease the growing despair. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and focused on something he understood. "Right, if he had made seven Horcruxes that would have given him eight pieces of his soul. Eight is the most magically unstable number. It would be a catastrophe to split one's soul that many times. He wouldn't be able to control the outcome. "

"Precisely, this leaves us the task of finding the Horcruxes and destroying them. I myself, have found one already."

"What?"

"Over the summer," Dumbledore shook his hand, "I believe that you recall the ring that sat upon the table. That was a Horcrux. Unfortunately, the method I used to destroy it was not very efficient. As a result I received this injury. A worthy price, but not one that I would care to repeat."

Harry thought of Regulus Black and how he had failed to destroy the Horcrux, but had lost his life. Dumbledore had been lucky.

"He found himself here, in Hogwarts" Harry said in a dull voice, recalling his conversation with the diary. "The cup became a Horcrux as well as the ring and necklace. What else?"

"I believe you noticed the close relationship he shares with his snake?"

"Living things can be Horcruxes? That's not a very good idea, if the snake dies I suppose the bit of soul would go with it. That leaves a few more, and even then we still have to search for where they are."

Harry drifted off as he recalled the yellowed parchment written by Regulus' hand.

_Gringotts_

_Hogwarts_

"There's one here," he said with absolute certainty.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I thought so as well. But I have searched for it, and I did not find it. I do not believe that Lord Voldemort would have placed such a valuable piece of himself so close within my reach and it such an obvious place."

Harry resisted the impulse to swear at the man, annoyed by his assumption. "That is exactly why he did it! Of all the places in the world, he felt like he belonged here most of all. You admitted that there were ulterior motives for him applying to the Defense post. That was it!"

Harry began to pace the room in a circle, half mad with reason.

"He would have been arrogant enough to assume you would not find it, like the Chamber of Secrets. Or perhaps it is hidden in plain sight so you could look at it everyday and never know you are protecting him. He has more than one Horcrux, so he could take that risk. He would also place one in Gringotts, there security system is top notch. Just reading the protection spell locks the whole place down so it's impenetrable."

"You are forgetting that the Gaunt family had nothing to leave him, and thus he does not have a magical vault of his own."

"Yes, but he had followers with ancient vaults. He would have asked one of them to place it in Gringotts"

"Yet, if find it hard to believe that he would trust anyone with that information."

Harry stopped pacing and stared at Dumbledore. _Not true,_ his mind whispered, _Voldemort trusted Lucius Malfoy with the diary_. At some point during their exploration of Voldemort, he had left Dumbledore behind.

Harry felt very alone.

He was jerked from his thoughts as Dumbledore began to speak once more. "I think that right now would be a good time to end this session, Harry. You give this information more thought and we can continue this at another time." Harry nodded and left the office and headed for the Room of Requirement. Once inside, he searched for the diary and gingerly lifted the cover. It was such an unassuming object, but yet, it was one of the most dangerous things in existence.

Next time he would show the diary to Dumbledore and explain how he had learned of it and the Horcurx. Harry's original intentions for keeping the diary secret were founded on a mix of pride and distrust. Dumbledore had caught Harry's sly question of the elder wand, and it was possible he knew of Harry's curiosity. As a result, Harry had not broached the subject anymore, although he was fairly certain that his suspicions were correct.

What Harry had wanted to do was reveal his knowledge about Horcruxes and Hallows with smug satisfaction. Harry had wanted to prove to the old man that he was better, and the concern was not needed or wanted. That he wasn't as _flawed _as the Headmaster had been, and he knew the difference between power and the idea of power. Harry had wanted to show Dumbledore that he was cleverer than the man had given him credit for, and wouldn't he just tell the damn truth already instead of sending Harry around in circles?

Harry had wanted to see the shock on Dumbledore's face when he revealed that he discovered a Horcrux already, and he knew where another one was. He had looked forward to the apology that would come from Dumbledore's lips.

But now those wishes felt shallow, and there would be no apology or admiration from Dumbledore. Because even though three Horcurxes were found, they were only half done. The pride had ebbed away and all that was left was the weight of the task pressing on him.

Harry felt tired.

* * *

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

Harry fidgeted impatiently once more in the Headmaster's office, his foot keeping time.

"Will you knock off that racket, Potter?"

Harry twisted in his chair to look at Phineas. "Sorry, I can't help it. I'm a bit impatient right now." Harry longed to start the meeting, there was so much to cover that he was certain he would be in Dumbledore's office for the rest of the night.

"Well, I believe that Dumbledore has his hands full what with the Malfoy boy getting caught last night."

"What?" Harry had no idea what Phineas was talking about. Last he heard from Blaise was that Malfoy was in the hospital wing for a burn accident.

"I don't know what happened, the meeting took place at another part of the castle. I probably shouldn't be mentioning it anyway. Not that I _liked_ the boy, I always thought he was a whiny thing."

The portrait was interrupted as Dumbledore entered the room. "Harry, I was wondering if we could postpone this meeting. There is an unexpected conflict occurring in the forest between the centaurs."

"Does it have to do with Hagrid's half-brother?"

Dumbledore's raised his eyebrows in surprise, "Unfortunately."

"Oh. I guess this can wait." Harry looked at the setting sun. "I suppose it will have to be tomorrow?"

"Next week would be better."

Harry shook his head. "No, this is fairly important." Dumbledore scrutinized him and Harry blinked back at him. "Please?"

"Very well then. Tomorrow." The look of concern did not disappear from the Headmaster's face as Harry left the room.

Made curious by Phineas' statement, Harry searched for Draco's name on the Marauder Map, and found Draco's dot as it exited the school. Looking out the window, Harry could see Draco as he crossed the school grounds. It looked like he was going towards the private area behind the trees, an unusual choice at the time of night. Harry took a shortcut through a secret passage and a window.

Draco was sitting alone behind the tree, staring at a watch. Harry walked up behind him, hearing the ticking of the pocket watch that held Draco's rapt attention. "I've heard about what you did.

Draco yelped, and scrambled away. "Potter! Did you…?" Harry's classmate turned around; Dumbledore was off it the distance on his way to the Forbidden Forest. "I suppose you know then. I didn't mean to." There was a note of panic in Draco's voice that screamed guilty.

Harry rolled his eyes. "_You didn't mean to_. I don't believe you." He took another step forward.

Draco raised his palms up. "I swear, Black's death was an accident."

Harry drew back as if he had been slapped, gaping at Draco as he continued to babble.

"I realized how wrong I had been when I almost killed Theo. I mean, he's my friend. But I had no choice, and I'm sorry. It doesn't matter anymore because I was caught, but please don't tell Theo." He clutched Harry's robes in plea.

"Don't touch me." Harry shoved Draco away from him with force, causing Draco to land heavily on the ground.

The blood was roaring in his head; and his heart was beating fast and he longed to strangle Draco with his bare hands; and to feel the gasps as he crushed Draco's vocal cords; but he couldn't because there was a familiar, clinking noise ringing in his head that matched another familiar clinking noise as something fell from Draco's pocket onto a nearby rock.

"What is that?" Harry asked. He had to ask, he had to ask because questions brought answers and the answers might be the a reason that Sirius was dead; and it wasn't his fault; not that it was his fault because it was his responsibility. And he was aware of the odd tension in his shoulders, a pressure building and building and building, even as he stood still and let Draco talk.

"The coin I used to communicate with Rosemerta. I got the idea from my father." Draco said this bitterly as his played with the coin in his hands. "I tried to kill Dumbledore by making her put poison in the wine. The Dark Lord made me, he was after my family." Draco's voice took on a desperate note as he continued. "We were fine. _We were fine_. And then one day over the summer... The Dark Lord was angry and he**_ made_** me. I didn't want this…" The coin fell from Draco's hands, landing on the grass, and he clutched his wrist were the Dark Mark was hidden.

"There's no such thing.." Harry said numbly as the full weight of the epiphany landed on him.

The panic on Draco's face turned into confusion. "What?"

"_There is no such thing as a one sided coin_." Harry lurched back. "**Oh, god**."

He had warned Theo of this precise thing. "_Sometimes your actions can hurt unintended parties, so make your choices carefully." _

There was a deep irony in Harry's own warning; he never realized the juxtaposition of his own words versus his actions. Not only did it make Harry a hypocrite, it made him a fool. He actually believed that he had seen all angles possible when he had arranged for Lucius to be his spy. But he was wrong. When Harry revealed how he discovered the Chamber of Secrets in _The Daily Prophet_ he was still under the assumption the black book was just a diary.

But it was a Horcrux.

Harry tortured and blackmailed Lucius, and the Dark Lord punished Lucius by giving Draco a task; so Draco Imperioused Rosmerta into poisoning the mead that Sirius drank, forcing Harry to choose, so it wasn't Harry's fault; but it was his fault, because Draco gave the command through a charmed coin; a method Draco learned from his father, used when Harry tortured and blackmailed Lucius, and the Dark Lord punished Lucius _by giving Draco a task._

If it weren't for Harry's own actions, Sirius might have lived.

And the pressure that had building these few months proved too much.

**(In a realm of labyrinths, the eldest member of the Endless walks a path.) **

He could feel the weight of The Endless in his head, and how they shaped the universe. Pressing and folding and molding and shaping and _**breaking**_.

_Tempus Fragit_

Harry began to laugh. It was an odd sort of laughter, crazy and desperate. It did not match the laughter in his head, nor did it replace the thump of his heart, or the ringing bells in clocks or that clinking noise like a thousand coins falling to the ground that made a song. Harry laughed because he could see. He had always claimed that he could see everything. The universe lined up, as series of cause and effect over and over and over and and and…

It was too much.

**Harry Potter would recall what happened next only in brief snatches of color and sound. He would speak of it only once and he never described how he felt.**

Harry lunged towards Draco, and pressing him against a tree "He gave you asylum?" The words came from Harry's mouth easily, as if he was reading a book.

**Draco Malfoy reached for his wand, but Harry Potter knew the action was coming and removed it from Draco's hands, because he could see things as if he were reading the words out of a book.**

Draco's wand in his hand, Harry let go, and ran towards the Forest. He knew that Draco was behind him, scrambling to catch up with Harry.

**And Harry Potter knew that he was faster.**

"Is it true?" Harry cried out as he reached Dumbledore, who was at the edge of the forest. "You forgave him?"

"**Draco Malfoy did not have a choice," said Albus Dumbledore, his face with concern as he looked at Harry Potter. **

"Draco Malfoy did not have a choice."

"You couldn't forgive him! It wasn't in your power to give. It was mine!" Harry cried. "It was _my_ revenge, _my_ forgiveness, _my_ godfather!"

**Harry Potter was aware that he is not as fine as he has always claimed; the guilt had not yet faded from his soul. And the careful control he practiced was gone, making him impulsive and wretched. And he didn't care.  
**

"Draco made an attempt on my life. I do have some say in the matter," Dumbledore replied.

"Why? Why is Draco here if you knew?"

"A person will only change their ways if they experience regret. I believe that Draco has reached a point where he was unwilling to follow the path he was set upon."

There were bells ringing in Harry's head, laughter that was not his own, the persistent beating of a heart, and time was ticking away and lost from him. Harry stuck his hand into his pocket and felt the familiar sand at his fingertips.

"Harry?"

Malfoy crashed into a nearby shrub, causing Dumbledore to spin around. Harry twirled Draco's wand in his hand as he pulled out a handful of sand.

**Harry knew what must be done. **

Harry knew what must be done, and he could have chosen another path. But the one before him was tragic, ironic, beautiful, and it was…

It was** Destiny.**

"_Avada Kedavra."_

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Draco stopped in shock as he saw Harry standing over Dumbledore. He had to be seeing things, Potter would never… he had heard that they got along well. Dumbledore promised he would talk to him.

A bright light flashed, and the sky was illuminated with the Dark Mark. Draco looked to Harry only to find he had disappeared. He felt something like dust thrown at his face, but when he went to wipe it away, it was gone. He heard a crashing noise behind him as someone approached. Draco looked on around and saw his wand lying next to…

Draco snatched his wand and tore out of the forest, even as the half-giant came his way. Not a second later, he heard a roar as Hagrid discovered…

He needed to leave. He wasn't safe. Hagrid was much larger and Draco knew that soon he would be caught. _"Accio Broomstick"_

A Cleansweep came barreling out of the nearby broom shed and he climbed on top. Draco glanced over his shoulder, terrified of what he would see.

"Git back here, you Death Eater scum!"

Draco kicked off the ground, barely evading Hagrid's meaty fist. He ascended higher into the sky, the wind blowing fiercely and buffeting him so that he could barely keep his eyes open. He gave a yelp when Hagrid had released one of the arrows from his crossbow, the weapon grazing his leg. The light of the Dark Mark illuminated his way as he left Hogwarts.

Draco's hands wrapped tighter around the handle as he realized exactly what Potter had done.

He was spotted at the scene of a crime and Potter used his wand to kill… to kill…

_(a body on the forest floor)._

No one would believe him if he said that Potter did it. Not that he could say anything. If the Dark Lord found out he failed, his family would be killed. Draco soared through the air towards a home that was a prison, unaware of his own sobs, only aware of a cruel truth.

Potter had succeeded where Draco had failed, and managed to protect Draco and damn him in one deadly action.

Despair settled in Draco's heart.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Destiny reads of Dumbledore's death. Once again a new beginning is about to commence.

Desire smokes a cigarette, amused that Harry has given in to his wants.

Del sits in a field, braiding a crown of flowers in her hair. Her eyes match.

Dream becomes aware that Harry has used the sand once more as the sky of The Dreaming grows dark.

Destruction (_yet not_) fails one more time at making something new.

Despair watches Draco through her mirror, his face wet with tears.

Death walks in a forest.


	49. Ch 46 Of the Seven

**Chapter Forty-Six **

**Of The Seven**

_**It is a fearful thing to be haunted by those who loved us once. It is a fearful thing to haunt those one loves.**_

Destruction in_ World's End

* * *

_

Harry laughed silently under his Invisibility Cloak, standing next to the body on the forest floor.

_Lots and lots of things begin with D_, Harry thought.

D…

Destr...

Destruc…

_(Harry couldn't finish the word. Not that one. So he tried again.)_

Damage.

Damage of the Brain?

Harry knew that there was something wrong. Something was terribly wrong or it was terribly right or it was both. It had to be both.

Something had broken (_his brain?)_ and Harry was very aware of the things in front of him, and yet not. Because as he watched Hagrid chase down Draco under the light of the Dark Mark in the sky, he could see other things well. Harry was aware, that perhaps at another time, he would have watched Dumbledore's death in horror.

Harry was aware of the grains of sand that were still stuck on his fingertips, the sand of Dream tossed on Draco that brought Despair. Dumbledore was Dead because Destiny Demanded it so. Harry could see the paths of Destiny's realm that wound round and round and they all became one path.

And even though Harry could see these truths, he was more concerned with the odd music in his head. He had heard it before, the ringing, clinking music ripped from somewhere.

_Got to keep the loonies on the path_

The music ended and began with the steady beat of his heart, the rhythm set by Desire's games. And Harry had wanted revenge so much it was all he could do to keep from screaming. Dumbledore had to go, there was no other way. And with a few words, and a handful of sand, Harry had made it so.

_You raise the blade, you make the change  
You re-arrange me 'til I'm sane._

The sand had shaped the world, making ideas reality, and everyone would know that Draco killed Dumbledore. There was no room for Doubt, and even if Harry admitted it, most people would not believe him. But the sand used on Draco has affected him as well.

_You lock the door _

_And throw away the key_

_There's someone in my head but it's not me_

_**Despair.**_

Harry had his revenge.

His actions were beautiful.

But why did he feel so empty?

_And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too_

_I'll see you on the dark side of the…_

Death approached.

The noise in Harry's head was silenced, her black hair unaffected by the howling wind.

She gave him a look of chastisement as he stood above Dumbledore's body.

"I have work to do," she said.

Embarrassed, Harry stepped away and slipped deeper into the forest. The old trees creaked in the fierce wind, a side effect of an approaching storm. But other than that the Forbidden Forest was silent, absent of any centaurs, thestrals, or half-brother giants. He was alone.

Unsettled, Harry wrapped the Cloak around him tighter. The certainty of his actions was now fading, and now all that was left was his exhaustion and the truth. He had killed Dumbledore.

"_Fuck."_

Harry struggled to wrap his mind around the idea,

"Why are you still here?" Death called out to him a few moments later.

"I wanted to explain," Harry mumbled. "It wasn't personal. I was so angry and I saw what could be... I… It was so beautiful, you see." Harry was aware of the stammer in his words. "Because of Delirium, you see… I could see. Delirium, so I could see Destiny and that brought Death, and the Destruc… Destruc… broken Dreams. And broken Dreams are things of Despair, which lead to Desire. All of you were in my head, in my head and it was so beautiful, all seven of you at once, and I couldn't fight it…I couldn't fight you. _**I can't**_."

The weight of his actions was beginning to horrify him. It was rare for him to act so impulsively, maybe if he had known what to do, how to mourn, then maybe he wouldn't have been so stupid.

Harry laughed in his head, was there was proper way to mourn?

And now he was thoroughly screwed over, because now there was nothing left that the Dark Lord feared. The Ministry would crumble, people would lose faith, and the Dark Lord's next priority would be to hunt him down.

Harry took a step forward to Dumbledore's body, There was something under his foot and Harry bent down to pick it up.

"Is this the Elder Wand?" he asked as he looked at Dumbledore's old wand. It was an inappropriate question, but it was better than trying to figure out the meaning behind Death's gaze.

"Yes. I know you used the Resurrection Stone as well. That makes you Master of Death." She withdrew the Stone from her pocket and handed it to him. "What do you say to that?" Her face was still kind, but something else as well. Harry wasn't sure if he was imagining the steely quality in her voice, the pity in her eyes, or the fear in her body.

Instead, he clutched the Elder Wand. "I don't know," Harry admitted. "I don't know what to do." There were lots of things just about to leave his mouth. Things change, and Dumbledore's death was just one more thing that would bring a new beginning. That there is meaning in colors and shapes, and patterns in the sand that can't be seen. That hearts break, and ideas shape reality. But all those words failed to answer the question.

Death took a step forward, her eyes narrowed in observation. "Oh, Harry. Are there any thoughts of your own in that head of yours?"

Harry blinked at her. And to his surprise, she came forward once more, only to wrap his arms in embrace. He jerked back, but her arms did not yield.

Harry strained his mind trying to remember the time when this had last happened. Perhaps one of the girls in his class, but that might have been followed by an inappropriate grope. Perhaps it was back in his second year, the day he first met Mrs. Weasley.

"What do you want Harry?" she asked again.

This time the words came to his lips easily. "I want to be normal. I'm tired of the games and the fighting. I know I'm good at it, but it doesn't mean I have to like it. Why won't they leave me alone?" Harry's words were muffled as he spoke into her jacket. He could love her.

That had to be a bad thing, to fall in love with Death. It was bad to fall in love, because love belonged to Desire, and she would break his heart and send him tumbling back into Despair. And then…

"**Stop it."** Death's firm words stopped the whirlwind of his thoughts. "You shouldn't be aware of Desire's actions. And it's fine to love me because I love you." Death planted a kiss on his cheek. "I think it's high time that this nonsense ends. I'll speak with the others."

"Thank you," he whispered as she withdrew from him. He looked around in astonishment when he saw that he was now in the Entrance Hall of the school.

"Hmph… You just wait until the others hear from me. I've been so busy I haven't kept up with you. Mortal's lives aren't normally on my list of duties. If I had known what my family was doing to you, I would have told them to knock it off."

"I don't want to start an argument," Harry replied as he saw Hagrid crash through the doors and go up the staircase.

Death laughed. "Everyone argues with me, Harry. But nobody wins."

Harry clutched the Stone in his hand as he went down to the Slytherin Common Room. When he looked over his shoulder, she was gone.

* * *

The next few days were a mixture of numbness and fear.

Dumbledore was buried on Hogwarts' grounds, in a large ceremony in which half of the wizarding world were present. The wizard in charge of the ceremony spoke of the many great qualities of Albus Dumbledore. It didn't take very long for Harry to get impatient with the service, just as he had when Sirius was buried. Harry had never been the overly sentimental type, but it was definitely strange to be present at the funeral that he caused. It was another example of his hypocrisy, a new hobby he was not fond of.

The argument whether Dumbledore deserved it or not was moot. It some ways Dumbledore deserved it, and in others he did not. The reason Harry's stomach twisted because of how easy it had been for him to mutter the Killing Curse. He remembered the vague amazement that Tom Riddle had managed to frame Hagrid for opening the Chamber of Secrets and Myrtle's death. Yet, Harry had done the same thing, using an untalented Malfoy as a scapegoat instead. Quirrell, Umbridge, and Dumbledore; all were teachers gone by his own hand.

_Death is the force of equality, look into its eyes and stand proud._

In some ways, Harry was worse.

He was distracted from his thoughts when McGonagall approached him. "Potter, a word?"

Harry nodded and followed her to her office. The school board had elected to keep the school open until the end of April, giving the school year a few more weeks before closing. McGonagall was placed as Headmistress, much as she had been the year before after Umbridge's death.

"Now then Harry. I am aware that you were discussing something of the utmost importance with Dumbledore. The Order of the Phoenix would like to know what information he gave you."

"Mmm… I don't think I can tell you that."

"And why not?"

He looked up to McGonagall, her face white and tired. He felt a stirring of sympathy; people were demanding answers that she couldn't provide. But it wasn't as if he could tell her anything either. If the Dark Lord was aware of that people were searching for Horcruxes, he would chuck them out to sea, rather than leaving them in important places that held meaning. The other reason was because he did not want people misconstruing his role in the war. He wasn't a hero, a savior, or anyone to look up to.

_There is no right or wrong, there is only power and those to weak to see it._

Harry had power and had chosen accordingly. It didn't make him wrong. But it did make him screwed over. He was a ticking time bomb that would self-explode, and he was going to make certain that part of Voldemort came down with him. It would be best if they did not pin their hopes on him.

"He told me bits and pieces of history. He said that people might rely on me because I'm the one responsible for his first defeat, even though I didn't even do anything. But most of it was personal, and I don't feel like sharing."

"Dumbledore didn't tell you how to defeat You-Know-Who?" She looked at Harry suspiciously, not fooled by his words.

"Oh he told me. Trust, perseverance, justice…_love_. All those things that inspire people in a speech, bet nothing you can actually do. You know how he was."

McGonagall sighed. "Yes, that does sound like him. Very well, thank you for your time Potter."

Harry left the office with some frustration. His talk with McGonagall reminded him of something important. He still needed to discover where Voldemort's Horcrux was hidden in Hogwarts, and he only had a few weeks left.

That night Harry was sorting through his trunk and tossing out old items that he was fairly certain that he didn't need anymore. Most of his belongings were for school purposes, and he had no interest in keeping them any longer. Near the bottom of the trunk was a rubber duck with his name written in faded ink. Harry stared at the duck in amazement, he hadn't thought of it in years. It was a reminder to him; one day he would be able to belong somewhere, and he would no longer have to worry about things that were out of his control.

He used to be such an idiot.

It was then that he found the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis he had won at the beginning of the school year. He wasn't certain if he still had the bottle or if Blaise had taken it out of curiousity. The amber liquid glistened, a promise and happiness. The temptation to use it was fierce, to forget his troubles and not worry about fate.

But it was too late in the day to try, so Harry placed the bottle on top of his things.

The next morning, Harry woke up, his body sluggish and tired. He rolled over to look at the time.

Six o clock.

A few minutes later, he uncorked the bottle of Felix and gave in.

A wave of contentment washed over him, easing the worry and guilt that had plagued him since Dumbledore's death. It was a familiar sensation, on those rare occasions that Harry could trust his instincts implicitly, like when he faced the dragon in the first task. But unlike Harry's destructive instincts, this was more controlled.

It was a taste of possibility.

Pleased, Harry went for a morning jog around the castle. Most of the annoying portraits were still asleep when he passed them by, and he avoided them. When Harry was done he looked out the window and saw the storm that had raged through the night had ended during his run. Deciding it would be nice to watch the sun rise, Harry went to the Astronomy Tower. Opening the door, he saw the Bloody Baron.

"Good morning Baron," Harry said cheerfully. "Were you out rattling the chains again last night?"

The Baron observed him with somber eyes. "Last night was a night for sorrow."

"Well, they say April is the cruelest month." Harry seated himself on the railing, his feet dangled over the edge of the tower. He had always wanted to sit there, but was far too paranoid that someone would push him off.

"Do they?"

"What?" His feet dangled high above the ground. Harry had the urge to jump, fairly certain that he would not fall to his death. Perhaps he would fly instead.

"Do they say that April is the cruelest month?"

Harry shrugged. "Yes. It has something to do with life coming out of mud after winter. I can't quite remember." A small part of Harry's mind wanted to shut up, alarmed by his comfortable conversation with the ghost.

"And yet, you are in good spirits."

"Oh yes. I feel astonishing today. I haven't felt this good in a while."

The Baron approached him. "Are you in love?"

Harry nearly fell off the tower. "What?"

"You carry that look on your face, the one that adorns the face of many boys your age."

"No," Harry responded shortly. Then he thought about the statement again, and of Death's gentle kiss on his cheek. "Well, maybe a bit."

"Love is a fearful thing, fickle and fleeting. No good comes from love."

"Well, someone is bitter. Is that how you died? In love?"

The Baron did not respond immediately, his chains clicking in agitation. "No one has had the courage to ask me that question before."

Harry snorted. "I'm not brave. You're a ghost. Whatever happened to you was the worse than any annoying question I ask."

"I was sent by Lady Ravenclaw to fetch her daughter. They had a parting of ways after she stole the diadem from her mother, and I was asked to find her once more. But my beloved was obstinate, and in my anger I made a grievous mistake. In my heartache I chose to follow her."

"_You followed her._ Does that means she became a ghost as well?" The Baron's silence was all the confirmation that Harry needed. "So you didn't even see Death?" He squinted in the Baron's direction, the rising sun making the ghost difficult to see.

"I do not know of what you speak of. But I heard something, perhaps the sound of wings."

"Oh. Well then." Harry didn't quite know what to take from that so he reached inside his pocket and pulled out the watch he had borrowed from Blaise. It was so hard for him to keep track of time now. "It's been nice talking to you Baron." Harry reached for the door handle and paused.

"Ah… I remember another saying from the poem. _I will show you fear in a handful of dust_. Could you imagine what that would be like? To have so much power that even dust could cripple someone in fear?" Harry mused.

The only response from the Baron was the rattle of his chains.

Harry drifted through his classes, completing the spells in Transfiguration easily, and contemplating the Baron's story. He approached the Grey Lady during lunch hour.

"I spoke to the Baron this morning."

She looked down at him. "I fail to see how the past concerns you."

Harry leaned against the wall, munching on the apple he brought from the Great Hall.

"Eh, it doesn't really. I was wondering a few things. Why didn't you go with Her? Why didn't you move on instead of becoming a ghost?"

The Grey Lady observed him with an expressionless face. "I refused to believe that my life had ended. There was more that I wanted to see."

"Did Tom Riddle ask you about the diadem?"

Her mouth opened in quiet surprised. "Yes," she whispered.

"Did you tell him about it?"

"Yes."

Harry nodded and began to walk away.

The Grey Lady called out, "Is that all? Most inquire of its location."

Harry smiled at her. "I don't care about the diadem. Tom Riddle liked the idea of finding something that was lost through time and making it his own."

"And you?"

He looked at the Grey Lady, her beauty apparent even in ghostly form. It was easy to imagine the Baron's infatuation with her, and a violent argument that led to death, and a life that never faded. He still didn't know how to feel about ghosts.

"I don't know. But I'll know it when I see it."

He walked away, taking a left at the next corner. He felt like going to the Room of Requirement. He had a very good feeling about it.

Ten minutes later, he left with the diadem Horcrux tucked in his pocket. _That was easy_, he thought. He tossed it in his trunk and headed to Defense class, arriving at the same time as his classmates. Snape was already in the classroom, standing at the front of the room with a typical sour look on his face.

"I have graded your essays on Dementors, some of you did well, but most of you would clearly fail if you were ever attacked."

Snape went around the room handing out the assignments.

Blaise leaned over to whisper at him. "Harry, where are your things?"

Harry shrugged. "I left them in our dormitory. I had a feeling I wouldn't need it." His graded Defense assignment flopped in front of him. Harry opened up to see his score**: T**

"What is this?" He asked as he stood out of his seat, waving the sheet in mock anger.

"Your score, Potter," replied Snape in a bored tone.

"No." Harry tossed the homework at Snape's head. "That's a fucking insult. My essay was perfectly valid and it deserves a higher score than T." Harry was faintly amused. Snape was an unjust man, and Harry always wanted to argue with him. Today he didn't care about the consequences, and the Lucky Potion was all the encouragement he needed. For good measure, he insulted Snape once more. "You're a bastard."

Snape's nostrils flared in anger. "I explicitly detailed how one must defend against Dementors and there are books written on the subject. You chose to write on a method that has never been discussed before."

Harry scoffed. "There is more than one way to fight a Dementor."

_There are ways around everything, but perhaps not in the way you desire._

"And yet, I find it hard to believe that a Dementor would choose to listen to a story. It was by far the most dismal essay in the class, even surpassing Finnegan's lofty tale of a golden patronus."

"It's not a story, it's a sentence. Find a purpose and say it out loud when they approach. It's a thought that the dementor's can't suck out of a person and they fade away. Sirius used it to escape out of Azkaban."

"Oh yes. Perhaps I should Floo your godfather for a more detailed explanation."

Harry's fist tightened and there was a gasp from Hannah. Harry took a deep breath and went around the table to pick up his fallen essay at Snape's feet. Then Harry punched Snape in the face.

Hard.

People shrieked and he heard Ron give a whoop in encouragement. Snape looked at him angrily from the floor, a welt on his face rising.

"Detention for the rest of the year Potter."

"No," Harry laughed, "I don't think so. You've got nothing over me."

He couldn't help the smug tone that came to his voice. He was so tired of planning and the careful control that he always practiced. The quite façade he kept in class that made him unremarkable. As far as anyone knew he hadn't led the DA, the discovery of the Chamber of Secrets was luck and Draco killed Dumbledore. He was the Dark Lord's next target and there was no point like acting like an incompetent first year. It only took him a few weeks and a bottle of Felix Felicis to come to the realization.

"There is a war outside of these walls and soon enough it will bleed into this school. It's already begun and you know it. I'm not coming back next year, not with the Dark Lord after my blood. And I'm not going to spend the last nights that I'm here trapped in another one of your irritating detentions."

Snape snarled. "Do you think you can do anything you want Potter?"

"Now you're catching on! I can. Oh, you have no idea what I'm capable of." He gave a sigh as the adrenalin shot through his veins, the confession lifting his spirits. He was sick of school, assignments, and pandering to people beneath him. "I could make you. I could break you. I could unmake you. It would be tricky, annoying and bothersome, but I'm certain I could do it." He was aware of the silence in the room and reveled in the attention.

"I'm not haunted by ghosts, not when there is something to live for. I can do _anything_. You just wait."

He left the class all of his classmates gaping at him in shock. Harry went outside and headed for the lake. Hagrid was teaching off in the distance, a small crowd of students around him.

A few minutes later, he heard a soft rustle. Creaking open an eyes, he saw a halo of blonde hair.

"Hello Harry," said Luna in a slightly misty voice. "You look well today."

He smiled. "I feel well." He heard her settle next to him, her body blocking the sun from his face.

"I'm glad. You looked really bad these past few weeks. I was worried about you. You took Sirius' death awfully hard."

Harry winced, her blunt understatement, feeling a bit ashamed. He rolled onto his back so he wouldn't have to face Luna.

"It's not so bad; he's waiting for you on the other side."

Harry sighed. "I know. But it doesn't help me now. There's a war going on and I'm not certain if I can keep myself together."

Luna tilted her head. "You're not alone."

He raised an eyebrow in curiosity. "Can you see people in my head?" Even as he asked the question, he was apprehensive of the answer.

Luna blinked. "No, I was talking about them." She pointed behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see his classmates approach.

"That," said Ron as he flopped to the ground, "was the best thing I've ever seen. I'll think I'll use that memory to make a Patronus."

"Memories of malicious intent don't work as well as a thought that has a strong emotional reaction tied to family members," replied Anthony, who stopped when he was nudged in the shoulder. "That said, well done, Harry."

"Thank you."

"Still, won't you get in trouble?" asked Parvati in worry.

"Nah," replied Ernie. "Harry's right. There are only a couple weeks left in the school year since they shortened the term. And they aren't even certain if it's going to open again. We probably couldn't get away with it though."

"Probably not, but since I can't return next year, I am an exception to the rule," said Harry.

Terry frowned. "What are you talking about? That's not what Ernie meant."

"Eh?"

"Snape was scared of you," replied Hermione. "I've never seen him so pale."

"After you left the classroom, he acted normal, but we all could tell."

"Really?" Harry found Seamus assurance doubtful, Snape never gave any emotions away. "How then?"

Hermione brushed at her skirt. "He told us to read out of our books in silence and he reread the essay you tossed at him."

"It was weird. You spooked him," said Dean.

"You know how fast Snape is at casting spells, but he never saw you coming," said Ernie with a grin.

"Not to mention your speech. It was…" Susan gave a sigh. "Wow."

"I hope you can back up all of those words next year," said Terry.

"What?" Harry had a feeling he was missing something very important.

Michael spoke to him slowly. "Well, we're going with you."

"Um…" He had honestly didn't know how to take this. But as he looked around at the ring of eager faces around him, he was flabbergasted by the trust in their eyes.

"You don't have to do that."

Daphne arched an eyebrow. "And her I was hoping that you had become a little less dense."

"It was too much to hope for," replied Blaise.

Susan spoke up. "What else are we going to hope for Harry? Wait for other people to solve our problems? It didn't work last time. You-Know-Who came back. People were too scared to fight and things kept getting worse. We can't let that happen. God, just a few years ago we were eating sundaes in Diagon Alley and now every one is terrified of each other. We won't be happy until that world comes back."

She took out the pocket knife Harry had give to her several years ago. "We made an oath our third year that we would change the world. We knew it then. Something would happen."

Harry frowned. "That's not the same Susan. We were young and it wasn't about life and death. It was about accepting people and…" _Change. _He clenched his teeth as he realized the verbal trap he was falling into.

"You promised me Potter. Our first year. I asked you if you had power. Our second year I doubted you, and you surpassed my expectations. You do that consistently, you bend the rules to suit your needs. I've noticed. But you can't do it alone. You're too much of an idiot." A small smile graced Daphne's lips.

Blaise continued. "Dumbledore was teaching you something, we all know you had meetings with him. He trusted you."

Harry sank his head into his hands. "It wasn't like that. All we did was talk about the Dark Lord, we discussed his weaknesses."

Ron punched him in the shoulder. "And you kept that quiet?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, well, this is the Dark Lord. He's ambitious, talented and has more spells in his head than all of us combined. Saying his weaknesses is like trying to describe color to a blind person; it's a bit hard to explain.

"Look I get your point, I do. But people are going to die. Your going to be miserable and everyday is going to be full of empty prayers. Nightmares will follow you." He looked out at the crowed of determined faces and realized his half-hearted argument wasn't going to work because he wanted the company.

But could he trust them? It was easy under the bright sun on the Hogwarts lawn, relatively safe from Death Eaters. But it was so much harder answering that question when you were cold, hungry, and about to die. Who among his friends was Pettigrew in the making?

Was it Anthony Goldstein, the quiet Ravenclaw who was more of an acquaintance?

Was it Lavender, whose gossipy nature made her flighty and indecisive?

Or was it Blaise, an ambitious Slytherin who had nothing to gain from the endeavor?

Did it matter?

"Harry, you can't make our decisions for us."

Harry sighed and stood up to walk back to the castle, the group following him. He could feel the Elder Wand that he had strapped to his leg, the material of the Invisibility Cloak in his pocket, and the Resurrection Stone he tied around his neck.

_To know yourself, is to be powerful. To know others, is to be wise. To know both is to be a gift._

He would have to take a risk and trust them. He couldn't predict what would happen, and he couldn't make those choices for them. And if someone did turn out a traitor it was unlikely that he suffer the direct blow. Then he could resolve the matter himself.

He was Master of Death after all.

That had to mean something.

Part Three Complete

* * *

**A/N:** Poetry quotes are from T.S. Eliot's _The Wasteland_, the astoundingly complex poem in which the footnotes had footnotes.


	50. Part Four Intro

**Part Four**

**Dark Side of the Moon**

Summary: Voldemort is in power, but the Wizarding world fights back. And Harry, Master of Death, is faced with a choice: move forward… or change everything?

* * *

**For Delirium was once Delight. And although that was long ago now, even today her eyes are badly matched; one eye is a vivid emerald green, spattered with silver flecks that move; her other eye is vein blue. Who knows what Delirium sees, through her mismatched eyes?**

From _Season of Mists

* * *

_

Located in the heart of the Dreaming is a magnificent castle. This castle contains many things, such as the throne of Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams, the Sandman. As Lord of Stories, Morpheus' responsibilities are vast, and as such, he created servants to assist him with minor responsibilities of the Dreaming. They all have different responsibilities; among the staff are Mervyn Pumpkinhead, Cain and Able, The Fashion Thing and Matthew the raven. They each have a room in the castle for Dream ensures that all of his guests and servants are comfortable. The castle also holds the most important library in existence. For in Morpheus' library are all of the stories that have never been written. Among the rare titles include _A Merrie Comedie of the Redemption of Doctor Faustus_ by Christopher Marlow, _Harry Potter and the Green Flame Torch_ by J K Rowling, and _That Bestseller that You Were Too Lazy To Write _by _____.

The Library of the Dreaming is an extraordinary thing, and as such, it is taken care of by an extraordinary librarian. His name is Lucien, a tall and thin man who wears a pair of glasses perched upon his long nose. There is something bird-like in his features and there is something dog-like in his character. Of the various servants, nightmares, and archetypes that wander the Dreaming, none is more loyal than Lucien. As librarian, he is able to name and locate every book in the library. It is a rare thing when Lucien loses a book.

On one particular day in April, Lucien looked out of the glass door and saw the dark sky of the Dreaming. It was rarely a good sign when the Dreaming grows dark; it usually meant that Lord Morpheus was in a poor mood. Lucien was placing down his feather duster when a gust blew the doors open and scattered a few nearby sheets in the air. And as he placed the sheets back in a pile, he noticed one was out of place.

It was a brittle parchment that told one of the first stories. It was created before Lucien, before the first planet had woken, when the Endless were still young. Lucien began to reach the parchment, even though he was already aware of what was written on the old paper.

_At that time Death was a morbid thing and Dream's favorite sibling was Desire. Destruction was still with the family and the first Despair was still present. And then there was Delight, whose smile had not yet broken into the shambles of Delirium._

_There wasn't much to do at the time; the universe was still new and fresh. There was only the family of the Endless, waiting for people, planets, stars, and galaxies to wake. Sometimes they would wonder of the future, and what their responsibilities would bring. But they did not question their existence, they merely waited._

_Destruction would sometimes sigh when the three oldest members would squabble with the three youngest. His position as the middle member of the family would sometimes make him wish for an eighth member of the family. Stuck in the middle, Destruction could see both sides of discussion and he was never one to pick sides. At one point, he voiced his complaint out loud and was met with stony silence._

"_Brother, eight is not a fitting number," said Dream. Even at the dawn of the universe, Dream was a formal individual, a habit that would not change through the millennia. _

_Destruction apologized; he was never very good at words, for that was not one of his skills. He knew he had misspoken. "I did not mean it that way. I meant to say, I wish our family was equally sided to provide balance."_

"_Still, it is a thought," said Desire, eager to continue the conversation. "If there was another member of our family, who would it be?"_

"_We commiserate on someone that does not yet exist and mourn who never was," said the first Despair. "It is a pointless discussion, but there is certain power that lies in this." This Despair was more talkative than the second, willing to explain the beauty in grief that her future counterpart would not._

"_Everything is pointless," said Death, looking at her family with dark eyes. "Ours is not to question, merely to act until our End."_

_It would be a long time before Death cheered up._

"_But it would be nice to have someone younger than me," chirped Delight. _

"_The eighth would not be the youngest. He would be the eldest," replied Destiny._

_And with Destiny's words the conversation ended. The family was too uncomfortable to continue speaking, for there were forces in the universe that even the Endless yielded to._

_These forces gave the actions of the Endless meaning, allowing the rhythm of the universe to run like clockwork. Every beginning has an end. The Endless must swear by the circle and on the other side of the sky. The universe began empty and it would end empty when Death takes Destiny's book and closes it shut. _

_And between that time, choices would define how existence was shaped, that destiny only became Destiny when it was chosen. That Death only had meaning when there was a life lived. Dreams would never be real unless if someone believed in them and so forth. This was the fate of the universe and these rules that could not be broken by the Endless. _

"Hello, Lucien."

The librarian looked up from the sheet of paper to see a familiar face.

"Lady Death," he said as he gave a short bow. "How may I serve you?"

"I just came to see Dream. Is he around?" Death lifted up a book and began to flip through some of the pages.

Lucien placed the sheet in his hands down on a table. "Lord Morpheus is currently working on some of nightmares that center on the Corinthian. I'm afraid it may be some time before he emerges; he can be very devoted to his work."

Death placed the book back down and withdrew a note from her pocket. "That's alright. Could you give this to him when he comes out?"

Lucien took the note from her hand. "Of course, Lady. Would you like to take the book with you? Perhaps you may find it to your liking?"

Death glanced once more at the book. "I want to, but I really shouldn't. Things are busy for me and I won't have time to read it."

Lucien nodded. "Very well, I will set it aside for you for another time." He nodded once more as Death walked away. He tucked the book under his arm and went back to the sheet he had been reading.

_This was the fate of the universe and these rules that could not be broken by the Endless. _

_Some call it free will. _

_The Endless call it Decision._

Lucien tucked the brittle sheet back in its rightful place inside a filing cabinet. Outside of the castle, it began to rain.

* * *

**Our existence deforms the universe. _That's_ responsibility.**

Delirium, in _The Kindly Ones_

* * *

**A/N:** I'm rediscovering this amazing thing called the sun, it's been distracting me from writing. Proper update sometime next week with a giant Endless scene. :)


	51. Ch 47 On the Run

**Chapter Forty-Seven**

**On The Run**

**With each step you take through Destiny's garden, you make a choice; and every choice determines future paths. However, at the end of a lifetime of walking you might look back, and see only one path stretching out behind you; or look ahead, and see only darkness.**

From _Season of Mists

* * *

_

"You want to take our home!"

Harry stared at the man before him, and thanked the heavens once more that Vernon Dursley was not related to him by blood.

"That's why you keep going on about some piddly war that doesn't exist, all of that nonsense about giants and dement-heads. The truth is that you are trying to run my family out of house and home!" Vernon nodded his head emphatically, as if the action would make his drivel become truth.

"I don't care about your house," Harry said in annoyance. He was a normally a patient person, but ever since he arrived at the Dursley home at the end of April, he had listened to the same arguments and after a month his patience was wearing thin.

Apparently, Vernon Dursley was incapable of understanding due to extreme narrow-mindedness. It was no wonder that he and Harry never got along. His Aunt Petunia was not any help either, she always willing to follow her husband's words. Harry was neutral on Dudley, as far as he could tell the spoiled child from his youth was gone, replaced with a teenager with an uncertain future. There might be hope for Dudley yet.

Harry turned to leave. "If you want to live, you have to leave."

Vernon huffed, ready to protest once more with another ridiculous argument. "Now wait just a minute. You don't walk away from me! I know that I'm right and-"

Harry interrupted him. "No, you're not. I have a few more important things on my mind than you. You have two options because I'm done arguing with you. One, you follow my instructions and transfer to America. Or two, in which the Dark Lord captures you in hopes of bribing me out of hiding and then you will die. Painfully. I don't want you dead, but if you think I would be so stupid as to risk my life for yours, you are severely mistaken. My bags are packed and I'm ready to go. And when I leave the wards protecting you and this house will fall and it will be Dursley-hunting season."

Perhaps there some of the impatience had shown in his tone of voice because the Dursley's were gone within the hour.

Harry watched them speed away from the kitchen window in their shiny company car which would lie abandoned in a nearby airport for months. He ran his hands through his hair nervously and sat down at the kitchen table. He had stayed with the Dursleys for May and most of June for his own protection because the wards were still active. But now that he was alone, there was no escaping his own thoughts. They followed him as he walked away from the Dursley home, safely tucked under his Invisibility Cloak.

A few hours later he was on holiday, watching a few elderly woman clutch their shawls around them as they walked.

"It's a bit chilly for June," he heard one say as she passed.

Harry kicked a rock on the ground, wondering if he could produce a Patronus to protect others from the growing dementor problem.

He had used the opportunity of free time in the next few weeks to brush up on some useful spells. Before leaving Hogwarts he had pillaged the library for spells that would help him survive and hide and was forced to memorize the theory over the summer.

Harry knew through Remus and McGonagall that the Order was planning on protecting him and retrieving him before the wards fell on his birthday. But everyone knew that the wards would fall when he came of age and Harry did not want to hinge his safety on luck that people would not come after him beforehand. So he decided he would slip away quietly on his own terms, hiding in obscurity where no one would find him. He had lived for the first years of his life not knowing magic. And then he lived a few after that not understanding how it worked, only knowing that he had potential. Now he had an opportunity to prove it.

But there was a flaw in Harry's plan, something that he had not anticipated in the slightest: his own uncertainty.

The plans and manipulations that he had used so often in his past were gone. True, he had moved the Dursley's presence far away so that the wards would fall on his own time. And he had arranged for travel to a small village by the coast where the locals would assume that he was from one of the families on holiday. But the time for elaborate scenarios in which cause and effect were examined was over. Fear made people emotional, and actions became difficult to predict.

If anyone were to ask what he did during the summer, Harry wanted to say that he had planned for the future. That he had toiled over maps and charts in hopes of derailing the fear that was hovering over everyone in the Wizarding World.

In short, he was planning to lie.

Something happened a few weeks ago that had changed him, and it wasn't simply Dumbledore's death that perturbed him. At first there had been a bit of guilt about his actions, Harry had always thought he was immune to the sort of righteous indignation that Voldemort displayed. Finding out he was closer in character to the Dark Lord than he preferred was a slap in the face. But there was little he could do about it, Harry had known for a while that there was something sinister in his character that Dumbledore was unwilling to recognize. Harry's own inability to reconcile with Sirius' death, his need for control, his resentment and fear had resulted in the death of an innocent man.

But Harry got over it quickly. After all, Dumbledore was old.

The thing that continued to churn in Harry's stomach was the experience. It was difficult to describe what had happened to him, the sensations lacking a proper word to express it. But the simple fact was that he had changed after he killed Dumbledore. It wasn't guilt; it was Harry's own lack of control that shook him.

He had felt the tenuous grasp he had over his own abilities snap; as a result his sense of timing and balance had been off ever since. He hadn't used a watch to tell time in years, and now it felt like all he did was stare at the face of a watch. Harry wondered how normal people coped with watching the sluggish journey of the hands of a clock. And worse yet was the terrible feeling that there was something _more_ in him, a foreign power. Something in him didn't belong, and Harry hadn't the slightest clue of what it was.

Of course, that sounded like nonsense. If Harry wasn't Harry, then he would be non-Harry. Or Not Harry. It was just an idea that had very little reasoning or explanation. And as much as he had tried to shake that feeling away, the belief continued with him every day in Hogwarts and carrying on into the mundane world of Privet Drive.

The feeling had multiplied after he used Felix Felicis. The Lucky Potion had given him a taste of his old life, alluring and sweet. He had managed to retrieve two Horcruxes in a few short hours. The diadem hidden in the Room of Requirement and short trip to Grimmauld had yielded the locket that was stashed in Kreacher's cupboard. He had been so certain of his actions, whether it was punching Snape in the face or accepting his friend's offer to follow him into a tenuous war. But when the potion faded away, he was stuck with the horrible realization of what he had set himself up for.

Perhaps someone brave could look into the unknown and still proceed forward. But Harry was never brave nor was he a hero. Since then the fear growing in him had become oppressive, his sleep interrupted by his own nausea. He would then lie in his bed and stare at the Elder wand in his hands as Vernon' snores traveled down the hallway.

Harry could accept death, he could accept fighting. He could accept that people were good, people were desperate, some were insane, and that some simply wanted to turn a blind eye at the war around him. What he found difficult to accept was how much this had gone beyond his personal vendetta against Voldemort. His friends trusted him to provide some sort of guidance, a path to defeating one of the greatest wizards in history.

He had no intention of accepting their help; the earlier version of himself would have provided some sort of blithe evasion and changed the subject. And yet the Lucky Potion pointed him otherwise, a magic beyond his own leading him in a new direction.

But Harry had no idea how to feel about that. Happy? Annoyed? None of his ideas included the baggage of eager students who had remained largely untouched by the horrors to come. And while he could ignore them and go on his own direction, the idea had settled in his head and in his heart so Harry could see no other path to take.

Harry knew that fighting against Voldemort would require him to practice largely untested skills. These were abilities that his younger self had always viewed as dangerous, but never really used. Not to mention that the strange power inside of him had thrown his skills to hell, so he didn't even know if he would be good in a fight anymore. And Voldemort would have picked up on his tendency to plan things after Harry turned the Prophecy into a Portkey. Gryffindor-ish habits of bravery and courage were the perfect choices to combat those assumptions, a task that Harry found daunting.

Not only did he have to figure out what he was going to do with his group of eager volunteers, but he had to find the other Horcruxes and destroy them. He had yet to attempt the destruction of the three which were in his possession, too afraid that the Dark Lord would somehow be alerted. Fiendfyre seemed like an unpredictable spell, and Dumbledore's burned hand was the consequence of not having proper control. No, he wanted to wait for all of them to be gathered before he made an attempt.

He had an idea where the Hufflepuff cup was thanks to Regulus' suggestion of Gringotts. The Dark Lord left the Horcrux with someone like he did with the dairy. He had to narrow down the possibilities even though he wasn't even certain whom it would belong to: Crouch, MacNair, the Lestranges, Rookwood? There were too many variables for Harry, and he wasn't comfortable taking a risk at Gringotts without a solid conclusion.

Not to mention that he would have to break into Gringotts. As much as Harry liked to think that he specialized in the impossible, actually accomplishing the task was another thing. There was a tiny loophole in the phrasing of the Gringotts protective spell. Thieves could never break into the vaults and hope to succeed if they were stealing something. The magic was strong and ancient; so many people believing in the monetary system ensured the rules could never be broken. But Harry could destroy the soul bit in the vault without removing it from the bank. If he could figure out in which vault the Horcrux was located, where the vault was located in the bank, past all of the enchantments the goblins had placed, passed the enchantments the Dark Lord had cast, he could succeed.

Oh yeah, he also had to escape.

But there was one tiny advantage: Harry knew the Endless.

Dream had spoken of a brief meeting between himself and Tom Riddle some time ago; while Desire had a healthy amount of resentment. Although Harry own relationship with them was tense, it was nothing like the outright loathing they had towards Lord Voldemort. Harry was certain if an opportunity was presented, he could barter for a bit of good will in exchange for revenge against the Dark Lord.

A few weeks later found Harry sitting on the bench in the dark street, waiting for the time to pass. He looked at the watch that his Uncle Vernon had left behind which he had subsequently taken, watching the time tick away.

Three…

Two…

The Trace disappeared as he turned of age. Without a glance back at the small beach town, he Disapparated somewhere else. A few minutes later, he was entering a dark cave, and the illusion they made it seem desolate fell away.

The cave was well-lit and the group of people sitting by the fire looked up at him.

"Happy Birthday Harry," said Hermione.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Death sat at a large table at in The World's End Inn and looked at clock for the time. In a few minutes her brothers and sisters would arrive for a meeting. It was rare for the family to gather, after several millennia the patterns of their gatherings were a bit predictable. Dream and Desire would say curt words to each other, their relationship strained after years of conflict. Destiny would be silent for the most part, he spoke when he needed to. And one of them would say something shocking that would cause another one to leave the meeting unhappy. There wasn't much that could be done about it though, they were family. They had been together since the beginning of the universe, and they would be together at the end.

Death had called the meeting because it was necessary; the lack of her family's knowledge on the current circumstances was appalling. Traditionally, she should have approached the hall of portraits that contained each member's symbol which would have allowed her speak to them and summon them to her realm. It was the traditional method of communication, one that was used frequently. But Death had tried tradition before, and she found that she didn't much care for it. Death preferred doing things her own way; it made life more interesting.

And Death was all about life.

Instead, she had left a message asking for their presence at The World's End Inn. It was one of few places was a guaranteed sanctuary and thus Death was assured that they would behave themselves. She could have called her family to her realm, but she knew they would have been deeply uncomfortable there. Her family always felt uneasy in each other's realms, the vast power that each wielded was useless in the domain of another sibling. Death never had that problem though, she went where she wished at all times.

"Greetings, sister."

Death looked up from her musings to see Dream. She was vaguely pleased by the top hat that rested on his wild hair. For most, it would look out of place, but the hat was another example of Dream's incessant need to be proper with a dash of grandiose.

As if the tuxedo he was wearing wasn't formal enough.

"To what do I owe this summon?" He handed one of the inn's staff his coat and walking cane.

She kicked the chair across from her, causing it to skid open in invitation. "Sit."

Dream frowned. "Is this a formal affair?" he asked as he eyed her casual outfit.

"I suppose," Death said with a shrug. "There is a storm coming." She squinted out the window to see the dark clouds forming at the edge of the horizon.

"Yes, it is apparent in The Dreaming as well. Soon the Inn will be full of travelers." He nodded at a nearby table, which had several weary visitors. "Some have already begun to arrive. There is a fisherman, a royal prince, and a space traveler sitting together. I am doubtful that they arrived together."

As Dream spoke more of the family arrived. Delirium's entrance was marked by a song as she skipped across the bar. Desire and Despair arrived at the same time, one with a solemn shuffle, the other with a graceful prance. Destiny arrived silently, appearing in his seat just as Death was about to speak.

She sat up in her chair. "Right, well thank you for coming. I suppose I'll start to explain now that we are all here."

"Not quite, the Prodigal is missing," Desire said, taking a sip from her glass of wine.

"I miss our brother," Despair continued, her voice grave.

"Of course he's missing. He quit, we all know that," Death replied. Although she didn't see Dream's face directly, she could feel his icy disapproval. "We aren't here to talk about him. I've come to talk to you about Harry Potter."

Desire's face lit up with excitement. "Oh! You're too kind dear sister. I could talk about that brat for ages. You wouldn't believe what he did the other day-"

Dream interrupted his sibling. "Playing games once again Desire? So keen to ruin the lives of those that give you power?"

"Oh don't act so innocent, Dream. As if we didn't know you have something to do with the boy as well. We all know how he loves stories and how you've had your raven keep an eye on his dreams. Not to mention that little story with Beedle." Desire leaned over the table. "You're just mad that I got to him first. It's only to be expected, he was conceived out of Love. Hot, sweaty, sticky, desperate love, but love nonetheless."

"Desire," Death said in exasperation. If she let Desire continue Dream would probably leave even before the real issue was discussed. "I'll have you know that the situation with Beedle the Bard was done so at my request. I had intended for Harry Potter to become aware of the story so that I could assist him with something that was beyond his control. And know that my plan is in action, but I have become aware of something deeply unpleasant. Are any of you aware of what has happened to him?" Death addressed her younger siblings.

Destiny, she was certain, did know what had happened. But she was also certain that he would only speak when it was appropriate, when his book told him so.

Delirium raised her hand. "I think I know. I had cotton candy in a park and it turned pink and it means that even we have to follow what must be done and I wanted to tell him but Harry sent me away and I can't tell him anymore."

There was a pause.

"Well, that certainly cleared things up," Desire said with a roll of its eyes.

Delirium began to tear up. "I'm scared."

Death reached over for her sister's hand and gave it a squeeze. "I am trying to fix it." She turned to the rest of her family. "Harry is a complete mess. I haven't really kept an eye on him, which is too bad. But I have seen him around when I am attending his duties. He's starting to fall apart."

Despair sighed deeply. "He used to weep at night. Now there is only acceptance."

Death frowned, uncertain of what to make of this. "Yes, well…what do you have to say for yourselves?"

"I fail to see how it is any of our responsibility," said Dream.

Death crossed her arms. "Please tell me you are joking." She blinked. "Hmph… I don't know why I said that, of course you're not joking. Fine, I'll give you a small hint: Sirius Black. What was that nonsense about?"

Dream failed to react to her question, causing Desire to steal the spotlight.

"Oooooh, you noticed? That was one of my better moments. I made Sirius Black important. Without my involvement he might have been a minor character, drifting away from life with a pathetic sigh. But I made him **want **and as a result, he became something more than himself."

Death nodded. "Yes, it is true. It was also something that was completely unnecessary."

Dream spoke. "Sirius Black came to me first to ask for assistance with Harry Potter, and I rejected his request. Did you approach him merely to spite me, Desire? How… disappointing."

Death rubbed at her forehead in exasperation. "Not everything is about you Dream. It's not as if your hands are entirely clean of this affair either. You could have explained a bit more to Sirius of what was going on."

"I told him to drop the matter. That should have been enough for him." Dream said plainly, as if his words were enough to bring hell to its knees or stop a man from protecting his godson.

Death resisted the urge to throw a loaf of bread at him, little brothers could be so annoying. "I am aware of that. But Sirius was scared and he didn't understand what he was asking. If you had explained that you were already dealing with the situation, he might have left it alone." She sighed in exasperation. "Sometimes you could act a little more human."

Desire spoke up again, as she popped a few grapes in his mouth. "So what do we care? Potter is mortal. It's a shame that all of that potential goes to waste but-"

"…_Shit happens_." finished Delirium.

Death bit her tongue, hardly daring to believe the words she was about to speak. "It's not as clean cut as that. Harry has a key to the Circle."

In any other group of individuals there would have been a gasps of shock and a few sputters of disbelief. But this was the family of The Endless, in which the creation of worlds is their purpose. The best reaction that Death's announcement received was Despair's shudder, and Desire's wide eyes.

"Surely not, Sister." Dream said with a raised eyebrow. "It would be impossible for a mortal to hold on to a key. There is also the curious puzzle of how the boy was able to receive one, as to my knowledge; there are not any in mortal realms. "

Death clutched her cup of cocoa tightly. "I gave him the key. Harry is a Horcrux which meant that his life was tied irrevocably to that of Riddle's. I had to give him a key in order to rectify the situation. That is why I asked you to talk to Beedle, they were clues so that Harry would be able to access the key. And it would have been fine, if all of you had stayed out of my business."

"Your business?" Desire stood up. "Love is what protected him from your realm, dear sister. I made him who he is."

"Desire if you interrupt me one more time…" Death said; her threat heavy in the air. Desire flinched and sat back down in its seat in shame.

"As I was saying, I gave him a key to immortality. Not much, just enough to extend beyond the elimination of the Horcrux. But things became complicated. We, all of us, gave him a little bit of ourselves and he learned to control it. The key was originally designed to keep him alive a little bit longer than most, and it would cease to work once it was used. Now the key has shifted purpose and Harry can leave the Circle."

"Impossible," Desire snapped, wanting for Death's announcement to be a lie.

Destiny spoke. "He will conquer."

There was a tense silence as each of the Endless recalled the words first spoken when they met the boy on Halloween night. Destiny's words revealed a truth that the Endless did not want to contemplate.

The Circle was everything.

Dream placed his cup of wine back down on the table. "Very well then. How do we rectify the situation?"

Death nibbled at her lip. "I've worked on it a bit. I asked our other brother to speak to him. If Harry remembers the lesson the Prodigal taught him it will be enough to counteract some of the damage, perhaps all of it. But the best thing to do is for all of you to leave the poor boy alone. The more you pressure him, the more likely of him to lose the small of control he has over his life and the power he has inside of him."

"You spoke to our Brother?" Dream asked. Around him, the rest of the family gazed at Death in interest.

"Yes. He was well. If any of you see him, I highly recommend you don't eat his food. He can't cook." Death saw Delirium pout unhappily.

"It is a lot of risk to place that much power on an idiot boy's choice" said Desire, lighting a cigarette. "What happens if he comes to us? He knows quite a bit and I think he's intrusive enough and clever enough to recognize the power in him. What do I do then?"

Death sighed. "I've thought about that. The best thing to do is play nice. You said you made him, Desire. So next time you see him you need to _unmake_ some of the damage you wrought."

Desire took a drag from its cigarette. "I'm not certain how."

Despair coughed and tugged at Desire's sleeve. "His heart is heavy. He does not see a future. His eyes see now, and there is no way that does not end in death."

Desire smiled. "Well, it's true isn't it? I suppose that I'll have to change something. If he comes around I'll let him know there is more to it than that."

"Be nice," Death cautioned.

Dream spoke next. "If I may summon Matthew, Sister? I believe that he may shed some light into the boy's thoughts" At Death's nod, the raven appeared with a loud squawk on the bottle of wine.

"Oh man. What a trip! Hey, Boss. Who's the company?" He shifted perilously on the bottle in an attempt to gather his balance.

"Matthew, this is my family. We were discussing the boy, Harry Potter. Perhaps you would share more of your observations of his dreams?"

Matthew ruffled his feathers in contemplation. "Hmmm… well there's a lot to say, but it's kinda hard to describe it. He's a pretty somber kid. A lot of doom and gloom, and it has been raining in his dreams for a few months. It probably started around April."

"Assumptions that we already have suspected," said Dream.

"There is something that I noticed recently. He is lonely."

"You need to replace your bird Morpheus," said Desire. "The kid has friends who he cares for, I know it."

Matthew moved to the safety of Dream's shoulder before it addressed Desire. "I know is what I see. I've been human before, you know. My dreams at that age aren't anything I would want to share with anyone. Some of them weren't exactly kiddie rated, if you know what I mean. That's the stuff I would have expected to see from someone his age. It's like Harry doesn't know who he is. In those dreams of his, I don't see anyone else, just different versions of himself."

"You know he cares about people, but he doesn't know that he cares. Or maybe he just doesn't know what to do about it." With that, Matthew fell silent and Dream dismissed him.

"So that's what we need to do. We need to make Harry care enough about his world and his friends so he would rather keep them even if he leaves the Circle." Death looked at Desire, her voice tense. "If I find out you failed in keeping your promise Desire, I'll speak to the Furies. **_All_ **of them."

The wine from Desire's glass spilled onto the table.

Delirium fiddled with the grapes on her plate, causing them to do a spontaneous waltz. "I saw something once that happened to Harry. Only it didn't happen to Harry. And what happened but didn't happen to Harry was that he fought a giant snake with a sword and he saved a unicorn and he played games in the sky. And they called him a Golden Boy."

Death stared at Delirium, her mind slowly connecting with the point Delirium was trying to make. "Oh! The Golden Boy. Now there is a thought." She turned to Dream. "Do you think you could find him? They are alike in a few ways; it might help if Harry talked to him before it is time for the choice."

Dream nodded. "Yes. I believe that he is wandering in the Americas. It shouldn't be too difficult to find him. I too believe it would be a most beneficial meeting."

Death smiled. "Yes, he was very good a fixing broken clocks. And that happens to be what we need."

With their business concluded, the Endless departed.

* * *

**A/N:** There are lots of in- jokes here for the Sandman savvy. :)

I'm on track to finish the rough drafts by the end of July, despite my turtle-update pace.

**Next Chapter: **Heartbeats


	52. Ch 48 Heartbeats

**Chapter Forty-Eight**

**Heartbeats**

_**The price of getting what you want is getting what once you wanted.**_

Dream, in _Dream Country _

_

* * *

  
_

There was an uncomfortable silence in the cave and Harry tried not to display his own uneasiness.

"That's it?" said Blaise doubtfully. "That's your grand plan?"

Harry sighed. "I know it's not the greatest but-"

"It's barely a plan at all!" retorted Ron.

Harry flopped on the ground, closing his eyes to ease the headache that was forming. He had only been in the cave for a few days and the tension was already starting to take its toll. He and Ron never had a disagreement before but Ron's hunger contributed by his sour attitude. It was little conflicts like this that made Harry want to leave them all behind.

"I told you it was going to be hard," he mumbled back.

"Yeah, but we thought that maybe there was someway we could help you." Neville looked around nervously, worried that the group around him would attack him in protest. "But I don't think that it's a good enough plan. We came here to the middle of nowhere to make a difference."

"Yes," agreed Daphne. "Instead, we sit here miserably in a dank cave waiting for you to get your head properly on your shoulders."

Harry snorted, Daphne was exaggerating their situation considerably. It was true they were in a cave, but it was hardly a dump. They had magic after all, and while the ground was stone, the place was well lit, they could Apparate in order to buy food and everyone had a comfortable place to sleep. And his plan was weak, even he would admit that, but it wasn't as if he was the only one capable of thinking. They were perfectly able to come up with their own suggestions. For some reason his own friends seemed incapable of coming up with their own solutions.

But Harry's suggestion that they should lie low for several months before taking any action jolted them out of their own complacency. It was to be expected; Harry had the nature of Slytherin patience; it was his friends who were unhappy to wait as The Dark Lord gained power. They had talent, skill, and the spirit but they were lacking in experience, and Harry wasn't willing to risk them so callously.

However, even Blaise and Daphne were unhappy with him. They had made a leap of faith in trusting him and wanted results. Learning that Harry's plan was to wait it out was something they were not willing to tolerate.

Fortunately, Harry was saved from further arguments when Cedric walked into the cave, followed closely by Fred. Cedric looked more worn and dirty than before but their smiles indicated that they were in good spirits.

"Hello all," Cedric said, his arms full with bags. "We brought you some supplies. We figured you didn't think about a lot of things that you might need."

"Yeah," said Fred who had dumped his own lot on the floor. "The vital things like toothbrushes and pillows."

There were a few chuckles from the crowd as they had been guilty of forgetfulness.

"Hey, Cedric. Can I talk to you for a minute?" Harry took a look a Fred and the other boy. Even though they looked a bit scruffier than what was normal, for the most part they looked happy. Harry couldn't say the same for his friends. They had been dissatisfied from the very start. As much as it galled him to think it, Cedric looked like he was doing a better job of leading.

They exited the dark cave, the sun hidden behind the grey clouds.

Harry pointed off to a dot in the distance. "Meet me by the tree, it's not safe here," he said before he Apparated away.

The cave Harry had chosen was a tricky hiding place. It was brilliant because on the other side was the cave the Dark Lord had picked to hide his Horcrux. Harry had politely asked a Dobby the house-elf to search out the location based on an old map he had found in Regulus' belongings. Dobby had been the Malfoy's elf for a long enough time that he was easily able to recognize the dark magic present. The Dark Lord didn't care to send very many people in their direction. He didn't want to anyone to notice the spark of magic in the air and there the nearest town used the area for animal grazing. So Harry and his friends were hidden in plain sight. Conversely, Harry knew it was unwise to use any magic in the immediate area, if the Dark Lord showed up, they could be easily found.

Harry quickly set up the protection spells before turning to Cedric. "How do you do it?"

"Er what?" Cedric looked at Harry with puzzlement. "I don't quite follow you."

Harry huffed in frustration; he had hoped that Cedric wouldn't need an explicit explanation. "How do you lead people?" It came out a bit blunter than he had hoped, but the shame had muddled his thinking.

"I don't know." Cedric shrugged. "I mean, I just do what I always did. Are you having some problems?"

"Yes." Harry kicked a rock on the ground and watched it skid away. "The others don't want to follow me. I tell them we should stay put and they keep insisting that we should be going out there and doing something. They are starting to get anxious and I don't know what to say to them. I know that they want to help out, but that wasn't the point of us coming out here. The point was that we would be safe as long as they couldn't find us. I'm afraid they are going to start doing their own thing and I won't have control of them anymore."

Cedric frowned. "Is that important? The control?"

"Yes," Harry responded promptly. Cedric arched his eyebrow in surprise. "If you don't have control it means things become unpredictable. It means chaos. The Wizarding World is barely holding on as it is; it wouldn't be wise to add more stress to the occasion."

"Ah," said Cedric. "Now there is your problem."

"What?"

"Well, you've always been in control. I went along with your plans because I thought they were good and it never occurred to me to do something else. It wasn't until Dumbledore questioned me why I should voluntarily get myself expelled that I really thought about what you made me do. I don't have a grudge against you; if I was really against it I probably would have told you to go back to your dungeon. But it did get me thinking.

'One of the main reasons I followed you is because you had a plan. You told me what your goals were and how we needed to accomplish them. It was a good enough reason for me to follow you. But whatever you have in mind isn't good enough right now for people to stay put. They want to follow you, but the idea of action right now is more appealing than your long-term goal. If you want them to follow you, you have a choice to make. One is to change your goal to something they like or you are going to have to abandon the idea completely."

Harry frowned. "I don't like either of those ideas."

His friend laughed. "Yeah, well you don't have much of a choice."

"I didn't want them around anyway. They were the ones insisting to come along with me! I don't see why I'm the one that has to change my plans for them!"

Cedric crossed his arms. "They are your friends. They help each other out in tough spots and sometimes you give a little. But that's why you care for each other."

Harry snorted. "You sound like a greeting card company. Have you been busy writing love notes to Katie again?"

Cedric's cheeks turned red in embarrassment. "Leave Katie out of this."

"Oh, did I hit a sore spot?" Harry teased. "How far have you gotten with her?"

"That's none of your business."

Harry gave a wry smile. "All the way then. Good for you."

"It's not like that," Cedric argued. "I mean, yeah, she's great. I mean really..." he drifted off a bit. "But I think she's something special, so I would appreciate it if you didn't talk about her like she's the soup of the day. Actually when she's in a good mood, she gives me this smile-"

"Ugh. Never mind. I don't care." Harry winced. "I hope someone shoots me in the face before I'm ever as soppy as you."

Cedric scowled. "It's easy for you to say that because you've never been in love. Once you find the right person it's so easy for you to change. You become someone better."

Harry stared at his friend in disbelief. He wished he had heard these words from Cedric before bothering to ask for advice. "I can't believe you are such a moron; love isn't like that at all. It means giving a piece of yourself to someone else, so they can bend and break you as they wish. It means making yourself vulnerable and weak. I'm going to pass on the almighty _**love **_option."

Cedric looked at him in astonishment. "You're joking."

"No, I'm not."

Cedric ruffled his hair in frustration. "It's not like that, not at all. Yeah, I guess you make yourself vulnerable, but what you get back is something equally amazing. I don't know how to describe it."

"I believe the word you are searching for is painful."

Cedric threw up his arms in frustration. "You have friends! It's almost the same thing. Only this time you want to hang around them and have jokes and tell stories. It means you want to do things for other people. The only difference is the intensity, not the intention."

Harry shook his head. This isn't what he came out here to talk about. "Either way, I think you're an idiot," he said, hoping to draw the subject to close.

"If I'm such an idiot, then why do people fall in love all the time? In all of history, your parents, my parents, you name it! And if _love_ is so stupid, why are you out here with your friends trying to fight a Dark Lord that you have no choice in defeating?"

"Revenge," replied Harry promptly. "The Dark Lord tried to kill me when I was a child, so he's going to be after me either way. I have nothing else to do but wait around until he succeeds, but it doesn't mean I can't make it difficult for him."

The annoyance disappeared from Cedric's face as he grew pale. "You don't know that."

Harry shrugged. "He's not going to stop hunting me down."

"Okay, but maybe he'll get bored with trying to find you." There was a look of fear in Cedric's eyes that was almost tangible and for that, Harry pitied him.

"Annoyed, yes. Furious, definitely. But he will never get bored. As long as I'm alive, I am a blight on his existence. That's simply how things are." Perhaps Harry could have used lighter words to soften the blow, but he knew that it was important that Cedric understood.

Cedric frowned unhappily. "I understand your point, but I wish there was a way around it."

Harry opened his mouth, only to shut in again with an audible click. "_There are ways around everything, but perhaps not in the way you desire_," he said with a dreary voice.

"What?" Cedric looked at him in confusion.

"There are ways around everything," Harry repeated. He was certain that the answer was right in front of him, but with his sluggish mind he had difficulty finding it. "Desire. You can't have your desires. But if I can't have my desire does it mean that it's _**love**_?"

Cedric was leaning against the tree, a look of befuddlement on his face. "You've lost me completely."

Harry turned to look Cedric properly. "When you search for an answer to a problem, you try to figure out a way around it. But sometimes it doesn't work out because the solution is something that you want even less. Dumbledore claimed that my mother's love was what protected me when I was attacked as a child. Fine, I took his word for it on that matter. But I've never been fond of _love._ I can't see how it is a practical solution for my present situation. And I don't think about it because I think it causes more trouble that it's worth."

Harry tapped his fingers unconsciously against the tree trunk as the tiny ideas began to weave together.

"But love belongs to Desire, and I didn't think about asking him. Her. It."

"Err…"

"Yeah, I know. It makes no sense. But trust me on this Cedric. I have no idea what I'm going to do. But I know someone who could lead me in the right direction. Meet me here with some ideas next week. Hopefully, I'll have figured out what to do by then."

Harry was anxious the rest of the night. He did not dream, instead waking just before he entered the real of the Sandman.

Harry didn't really know how to get to Desire's realm, but he still had the sand. So with an idea in his head and the Horcruxes in his pocket, he bid a hasty goodbye after breakfast. He Apparated into the deserted forest where the Quidditch World Cup was once held. After setting up the protection spells, Harry dipped his hand into the bag of sand.

A feeling of warmth traveled up his arm and a comfortable sensation of belonging settled in his brain as he tossed it in the air. The area grew foggy; a deep red mist filled his vision. When it cleared, he found himself in front of Desire, whose face was filled with shock and joy.

"It's rude of you not to knock," said Desire.

"I don't even know where the door is," Harry replied as he looked at moist red walls. He pressed a hand against the surface and it shuddered. Harry pulled his hand back in astonishment.

Desire offered Harry a cigarette. "All you have to do is want and one will open up for you. I would have let you in."

"I don't smoke," he replied even as he took the cigarette.

"Today you do," Desire said with a coy smile on its face. "So what brings you to me?"

"You know," Harry said.

"Yes, I do. But it's not real until you say the words to me out loud. Until then, they are just ideas. I want you to tell me what you want."

"Oh." He licked his lips, the taste of tobacco full in his mouth. "I want to make a deal with you."

Desire smiled and laughed. "_I knew it_. You were always mine Harry, no matter want my other family members think. I knew it wouldn't be long before you came to me. So what is this little deal you had in mind?"

"I want you to help me defeat Voldemort, Tom Riddle, whatever you call him." Harry saw Desire make a face of distaste.

"I have little interest in him." The lighting in the room grew dim as Desire began to play with a trinket on the table.

"What?" replied Harry in confusion. "I thought that you want everything. Isn't that against your nature or something?"

For a brief instant, Desire's face turned ugly. "I'll humor you and explain, but don't think that _you_ are able to tell me what _my _nature is.

Desire's agitation was apparent as it had begun to pace along the room. "I want Voldemort whole and complete. I want him to bend on his knees and plead, to cry and scream. I want him to long for something so _**fiercely**_ that in consumes him so much he can't even remember anything else in his life." Desire's clenched its hands, its nostrils flaring slightly. The cigarette ash dribbled onto the floor, leaving a dirty smudge on the luxurious carpet.

"But Voldemort split his soul. I have little use for such fleeting abominations. He wanted to be immortal and as for the most part he was successful. Besides, the quest for immortality has shaped his life and that that sort of thing is more of Death's affair. It's a sticky situation that I want no part of. Hmph…I could have made him truly immortal, I've done it before."

Harry's interest was peaked. "Anyone I've heard of?"

The distrust melted away from Desires' face. "There have been a few. Perhaps you have heard of Shakespeare?"

Harry snorted in disbelief. "I'm fairly certain that Dream is responsible for making the playwright famous, stories belong to him."

"It is a manner of perspective, dear Harry. It's simply perspective. Despair was there for the tragedy, Delirium for the comedy. Dream gave him ideas, the words, but the heart was mine." Desire's smile turned coy. "I met him in a pub once, but that was all it took for him to write something about me.

_Shall I compare thee to summer's day?_

_Thou art more lovely and more temperate:_

_Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,_

Harry stared as Desire recited the poem. His knowledge of Shakespeare was minimal, but even he knew this sonnet, and the debate on whether the subject was a man or a woman.

"_And Summer's lease hath all too short _and so forth. There's more to the poem, but you get the point. It's not the words that make Shakespeare immortal, although Dream would like to claim as such. It's the love behind it."

"Why would I bother with someone like Voldemort when I have future Shakepeare's to look forward to?" It raised a thin eyebrow in question. "I don't think I'll be a part of this deal unless if you can offer me something better."

Harry squirmed under Desire's golden eyes, his heart thumping faster with every second. "I'm asking for your help and I never have before. It's something you've always wanted." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the diadem, locket, and diary and placed it on a nearby table. "I don't know how to destroy the Horcruxes. I want you to tell me how to defeat Voldemort."

"Now why would I do that?" Desire asked with a tilt of its head.

"Love is something he never understood; which means he hates you and you can't stand that. You want him gone or at least humiliated. Since the Horcruxes are parts of his soul that should give you a little power over him."

"Such a small goals, Harry. Why pick one when you can have them both?" She approached the table with the Horcruxes and lifted the diary in her hands. Flicking the page open with delicate fingernails, Desire stopped when it reached a certain page and hummed.

"All right, I think you have something here. But there are two slight problems to this. One is obvious. Voldemort split his soul and you only gave me three parts. I'm going to need the others."

Harry nodded. "I thought so. I don't have them yet, but I'm working on it."

"The other problem is you. Does this mean I get to keep you as well?"

"Er… I don't follow." There was something in Desire's smile that left Harry deeply unsettled.

"Well…" She walked over a traced a painted fingernail on his scar. The actions sent a tingle down Harry's body and straight to his belly. "You ARE a Horcrux."

Harry jerked back. The energy inside of him gave a twist that caused his vision to swim.

"What?" he hissed.

The cool smile on Desire's face only grew sharper. "Little Tom Riddle left a gift in you that night. He didn't mean to but things don't go to plan when Delirium is around." She lifted up the diadem and placed it on top of her head. "Oh, don't be so shocked, you knew this was coming."

Harry spun around to run away from Desire, his feet squishing against the velvet floor. A door opened up as he ran towards the wall, taking him to a long twisting hallway. It was sleek and ominous, with pictures and postersand **paintings** of Desire hung in every direction.

He didn't look back. It his head, (in his heart?) he knew that running was a futile action; Desire was all-powerful in its realm. But Harry didn't like the feeling of helplessness that rushed over him. He should have known better to think that Desire would help him.

He wasn't certain how long he went on, but eventually the emotion that fueled his running drained. The pointlessness became more apparent as his surroundings began to repeat, as if he was stuck in some early animated cartoon. Harry collapsed onto the ground next to the statue he had already passed fifteen times, his breath coming in gasps.

He was a Horcrux like the snake and he already knew the snake had to die. He already knew that the odds of him living were minimal. But finding out he had been screwed over from the very start burned.

"There is a way around it."

Harry looked up to Desire, mentally exhausted and emotionally shaken. "Go away," he pleaded in vain. "I'm not in the mood for games." The pieces of his self-control were becoming lax again and he could feel the strange power inside of him give yet another twist.

He heard Desire inhale sharply.

"I spoke to Death a few weeks ago. The others and I had dinner and she spoke of… things. She made it explicitly clear that we were to leave you alone and your choices were your own. This isn't a game, Harry."

He didn't feel like listening to Desire's words; he knew that half of it would be lies with just enough truth to make it sound true. But Death _**had **_said she would talk to the Endless.

"What's the way around?" he asked as his curiosity won out.

"You have to let your guard down. Let someone inside of that wriggly little soul of yours."

"No." Harry dropped the cigarette and stamped on it for emphasis.

"So quick to turn down my words." Desire shrugged. "It doesn't matter, I suppose. I can't make you do anything that you don't want to, that rule was established long ago. But if we make a deal; I can help you."

Harry didn't reply; content to let the moment linger as long as possible. "What kind of deal?"

"When your mother died she left a protection on you to keep you alive." Desire leaned against the wall, still as the statue she stood next to.

He nodded. "I know that. But I thought the protection was broken when I turned of age."

Desire rolled its eyes. "_**Human**_. The power didn't break; it only became dormant. And Voldemort renewed some of the power when he used some of your blood to come back to life. Because he was such a monumental idiot, I am able to do this."

She reached into her coat pocket and withdrew the locket and diary and pushed them together. They began to melt in Desire's hands, glowing red hot before cooling. Desire reached on top of her head and removed the diadem to repeat the process. When she was finished, she held something like a piece of glass in her hands. The form was indistinguishable, far too lumpy to have the dramatic effect Harry had been anticipating.

"Voldemort could return the pieces of his soul if he wished, but that is unlikely to occur." Desire murmured as it caressed the glass in its hands. "But the blood connection that he took from you is enough to join the three pieces of his soul as if they were never apart. I'll be able to do that with the other pieces as well. Where are they?"

"There is the snake that's always around Voldemort, it's really big. And then there is the Hufflepuff cup which I think is in a goblin vault, but I don't know which one." Harry swallowed with difficulty. "And me, I guess. There was a ring, but Dumbledore destroyed that. I don't think you are going to get that part back." Every word that Harry spoke brought back that same helpless sensation of being out of control.

"Six out of seven pieces is very good. I'm not going to ask Death to retrieve that missing piece for me; we don't need any more complications."

"You said there was a way around it," Harry said in irritation.

Desire sneered. "I'm getting there, you silly boy. The blood protection melds the pieces of his soul together with little effort; someone other than me could attempt to do this and succeed. The ability extends to the piece of soul that is in you."

Harry felt another jolt of power twist through him. "What do I have to do?"

"When you think the time is right for you to remove the Horcrux, think of someone you love. It should be enough to keep you alive."

"Really?" Harry was dumbfounded. It was such a simple action; a mere thought could keep him tethered to life. And finally, all of those half-dreamt-of ideas, the wants and wishes could have a possibility of existence. He could become a dragon trainer, or a potions master, or laze about as an anonymous Muggle for the rest of his life. And yet, the task itself was monumental; he had to find someone to love.

Harry had climbed a few mountains that were less daunting.

"Okay, I think I can do something about that." He felt a flush creep up his neck, too embarrassed to admit he didn't know where to start. "What about the other Horcruxes? Can you tell me where they are?"

"Of course not. Those things are cut off from my realm. But you've done well for yourself so far." Desire beckoned him over. "Come here."

Harry took a hesitant step forward. Desire slid a hand underneath his shirt, pressing its thumbs on a spot above his heart. A wave of heat radiated at the touch, then fading just as quickly as it came.

"I've marked you as mine. When you find the cup, you are to bring it to me. There is a room in your Ministry of Magic that is a portal into my realm. The mark will allow you easy entrance. It could assist you as well, if presented with the right opportunity."

"What about the sand? I still have some." Harry looked the circular burn mark on his chest above his heart. It didn't look like it would heal over time.

Desire frowned. "No, that would be unwise. There is power in that sand, using it twice for the same purpose could create a circle you would be unable to control."

The strange mist began to descend again and seconds later was back again in the field. The sun was setting, casting the sky in a rainbow of red, pink, and gold hues. Harry sighed in disappointment. He was no closer to find the definitive location of the other two Horcruxes and he had not been given a plan. Plus, he had a new burn mark for his troubles.

Despite this, Harry went back to the cave with a lighter heart.

**In the United States…**

Sarah rubbed the back of her neck to ease the knot that was beginning to form. She turned her head to see the time, only to scowl. The Elvis clock on the wall had broken down the week before, the swinging hips that counted time were now irritatingly still. She really hoped the manager would fix it sometime soon.

Tucking the pad of paper in her hand, Sarah wiped down the table in front of her, and taking the dirty plates to the back. When she emerged from the kitchen she found a young man sitting at the counter of the diner. He was placing his denim jacket on the chair next to him.

"What can I get for you, Hun?" Sarah asked to the unknown customer.

The young man smiled. "I don't know. I'll take whatever the cook thinks is best."

"All right. I'll let him know."

Sarah made her way to the kitchen where the cook was beginning to remove some of the dirty dishes and place them in a sink. "House Special for one, Gary. He's the last customer in the diner, so don't get too carried away."

The cook chuckled as he made his way over to the stove. Sarah took a left and entered the owner's tiny office. He was already gone, having served breakfast for the morning crowd. She grabbed the clock off of his desk, the prize for winning some sort of city food contest. Only half an hour left before she could go home. Smiling, she clunked it on the table, gave her neck a pop to ease the stiffness, and went back to the kitchen.

"Is the food ready yet?" she called out to Gary. Perhaps if she could get the customer to leave, she could go home a few minutes early.

"Yeah," he said, flipping the burger on the bun and sliding the plate her direction.

Sarah lifted the plate and went back to the front of the store.

"Here you go-" The words died in her mouth as she caught sight of the scene before her. The young man was still sitting on his stool, but there were small mental pieces strewn about the counter top. Next to the stranger's hand were bits of Elvis, his legs and torso disconnected.

"What are you doing!" Sarah clutched the plate tightly to keep from tossing it at the boy's head in anger; if she threw it she would have to pick up the mess anyway. The clock was one of the owner's favorite items, a souvenir from his trip to Graceland. He would absolutely _kill_ _her_ if he found out she had let a customer touch it. She took a deep breath. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

The young man's reaction was a sheepish smile. "I normally don't snatch things off of diner walls, but I noticed this was broken. I thought I would fix it for you." He shrugged and went back to examining the tiny gears in front of him.

Sarah looked at him doubtfully, uncertain if he was being serious or not. She slid the plate on the countertop and leaned over to see. He had a pair of tweezers and he was assembling the clock once more.

"You know what you're doing," she said bluntly, astonished that someone his age knew about timepieces. The only watchmakers she knew of were retired men who took up the practice as a hobby.

The young man chuckled. "I grew up in a town with a lot of clocks; someone had to keep them in order. Besides, I met Elvis once; he would have been very disappointed to see it wasn't working. He worked very hard for his fame, and he loved the joy his music brought to other people."

Sarah laughed. The stranger was in his twenties, it was more likely that he had been born after Elvis had died. "Where did you meet him?" she asked, playing along with his little game.

"In the park," the stranger replied. "Elvis had a slight heart attack and after that he became a bit of a health enthusiast. It was easy to spot him because of all the rhinestones sown onto his jogging pants. Of course that was far away from here. _You_ wouldn't be able to find him." He set down his screwdriver and clicked the battery back in place. Immediately, Elvis' legs began to swish back and forth.

Sarah goggled at the clock in amazement. It was comforting seeing it working, as if the world had been set right once again. She turned to the stranger who was already halfway done with his dinner.

"Thank you…" Sarah floundered at his name.

"Prez," said the young man. "Prez Rickard."

"Hmm… that's a rare name. Is it short for anything?"

There was an elusive smile on the boy's lips. "Not really. Although some have joked that it is short for President."

"I'll tell you what Mr. President. Since you fixed the clock, dessert is on the house. What will you have? Tina in the back makes some excellent lemon meringue."

"Actually," Prez said with a smile, "I thinking about some of the apple pie."

* * *

**Author's Note:** Hello!!!!!

Writer's block may be dead now that I'm done with the "love is the power he knows not" business. Cross your fingers!

**Next Chapter:** Us and Them


	53. Ch 49 Us and Them

**Chapter Forty-Nine**

**Us and Them**

_**You lot may die. I expect you will, 'cos you're stupid. Not me, though.**_

Hob Gadling in _The Doll's House

* * *

_

**Remus**

The year had not been kind to him.

It wasn't the war that had left Remus Lupin unsettled and worn, although the horror that came with war had returned to him with perverse familiarity, like a troublesome old lover who broke into his home with an old key. The rationalization for murder, the numbness, and fear, it all came back quickly. He had experienced it at the peak of his youth and the grittiness of it never wore off, renewed with every prejudice he faced throughout the years. War was easy enough to remember and accept.

What had frightened Remus was the possibility that they might win. It was so easy to remember the panic when Dumbledore was discovered dead. When Remus heard the news he was certain, _**so certain**_, that everyone would turn coward and run. But at some point in time after the announcement of Voldemort's return the Wizarding world had found their spines, and they were ready to protect themselves. It wasn't easy. Everything was hidden in secrecy and people did not venture out of their homes, but there was still hope.

Dora radiated hope. He had married her because she wanted him to and because it was so hard to say no to her. Her hair was still the same gaudy pink it had been when Remus first saw her under the soiled light of Grimmauld Place. Pregnancy had only served to give Dora a matching blush. Every morning she made him rub her belly after she was dressed.

Remus didn't deserve her. She grew more beautiful every day, and only served to highlight the differences between them. He was old, she young. He was dusty and boring and she was wild and quirky. The list went on and it only served to make him feel more inferior every time she grabbed his wrist and placed it on her stomach.

"For good luck," she would coo, so unlike her tomboy manner.

It didn't help when he talked to Molly either. His concerns were brushed away easily as she would tell him that they were good for each other. In doing so, she turned a deaf ear to every one of his worries. Every now and then he would wake up in the middle of the night with his heart pounding in his chest, struck with the mad urge to run away. To give Dora a chance to be free of him and the weight that came with him. And then he would remember that he had nowhere else to go. Remus would fall back in a fitful sleep, deciding to selfishly take another day with her.

Opportunity knocked in the middle of October during breakfast time. Remus rose from the coffee table to answer the door. Harry Potter and Cedric stood casually in the doorway, despite the Death Eater guard a few feet away and the large reward on each of them.

"Morning, boys." Remus moved to the side to allow them into Sirius' old home in Hogsmeade. The Death Eater was dozing against the fence was completely oblivious to the world. "What are you doing here?"

Harry raised _The Daily Prophet_ in his hands. "We noticed the paper this morning. Cedric and I talked a bit and decided that it was time to have some sort of communication established for those of us who aren't homicidal lunatics." A strange look passed over Harry's face. "I should probably rephrase that," he muttered.

"Yes, I thought you might be a bit cut off." Remus gave Harry a stern look. "It was a grand surprise for us to show up on Privet Drive and to find the house completely empty. McGonagall was beside herself, she was quite insistent that we needed to get you soon."

Harry shrugged. "I had a plan."

Cedric snorted. "You had a plan. Why am I not surprised?" He turned to Remus with a cheerful smile. "I heard that Kingsley Shacklebolt was staying here, there's something that I need to talk with him about."

Remus pointed to the next room. "He's over there." Cedric nodded and entered the kitchen, leaving Harry and Remus to themselves.

Harry sighed as he made his way over to the couch. "I have a question." Harry tugged at a thread on his shirt avoiding all eye-contact with Remus. "I thought you might be the one to help me out..."

Remus sat patiently on the couch, waiting for Harry to continue. It was obvious that this was a subject Harry did not want to discuss, and he could understand that situation easily. In his long life, it was all too easy to remember the terror he felt when James had cornered him with the accusation of being a werewolf. It was a conversation Remus dreaded, and despite the somewhat happy conclusion, he could still recall the mind-wrenching fear.

Harry slapped his hand to his face. "I can't do it. I don't know... sorry, Remus. Forget I said anything."

Remus smiled a bit. It was strange to see Harry so uncomfortable, a large contrast to the thirteen-year-old who had informed him that it was perfectly acceptable to be a werewolf. "Nonsense, Harry. You came all this way to talk to me for a reason."

And then, a thought: perhaps there was somewhere else he was needed. Harry certainly seemed to be having troubles of his own. Despite his ability to vanish into thin air, Harry was definitely at odds with himself.

Harry winced and flopped back down on the couch. "Fine. How did you fall in love?"

The question hit Remus with the subtlety of the Knight Bus. "I'm sorry?"

Harry stared at the coffee table in embarrassment. "I know... I know. I'm probably overstepping my boundaries or something. But I've heard from a few people that you got married to Tonks. Congratulations, by the way."

"Thank you," responded Remus in a weary voice. The conversation was headed towards news he'd rather not dwell over. "We're expecting a child as well."

"Errr... that's... uh... good news?" Harry's face furrowed in a look of confusion. "At least, I think it is. You don't look thrilled."

Remus looked at Harry, the son of one of his dearest friends. Despite the nearly identical looks, Harry was so very different from James. He was an old soul, attacking every problem with the most serious attitude while James had given most matters a frivolous approach. It took James years before he was willing to grow up a bit and even then he had been unwilling to let go entirely. It was this joy of life that had drawn Lily to him, it was strange that Harry was nearly absent of it. Remus had never understood why Sirius had been so attached to Harry, viewing their relationship as some sort of strange hybrid between brotherly and parental. He had suspected that Sirius had clung to Harry out of necessity; that Azkaban made Harry his only reason to live.

But now Remus was beginning to understand. Even when asking for love advice, framed in the shell of an uncertain teenage boy, Harry was the only one who had picked up on Remus' unhappiness.

"Dora deserves someone who can give her a future. I cannot."

"Yeah, okay. But isn't that what we are fighting for? Or is it all talk to you?"

Remus felt his ire raise at Harry's mocking tone. "You have no idea what it is like to spend your entire life wanting things, but being unable to have them. I have searched for work high and low and they won't take me because of something that I only have once a month. My clothes are second-hand at best. The child will spend the rest of his life with a father he can't be proud of and a mother who will face constant derision. Don't be so foolish."

Harry flinched. "I... uh..." He swallowed and stared once more at the coffee table.

Remus winced, his lack of tact was appalling. He had no right to throw his own insecurities on Harry, especially since his hands were full enough.

"You didn't answer my question. How did you fall in love?"

Remus looked back at Harry, whose face had returned to that familiar look of confidence.

"Well," Remus said slowly, trying to scramble in his head for some sort of appropriate response, "I don't really have a choice in the matter."

Harry arched his eyebrows in shock and leaned back on the couch with his arms crossed. "I don't believe you. You always have a choice."

"Harry," said Remus, exhaustion settling in his bones. "It is not quite that simple. You can't turn off your emotions. You can try, but deep down they are always present. I love Dora." Remus paused as he tried to filter his emotions into something palatable. "The situation we are currently in makes it difficult for me to see a future with her."

"They why are you still with her?"

"I have no where else to go." The words came from Remus' lips bitterly.

There was a long silence, the voices of Cedric and Kingsley coming through the wall with a low buzz. Remus closed his eyes, unwilling to contemplate on the question anymore.

"Dumbledore said that I have an ability to love," Harry whispered. "He said the Dark Lord won't love and it is a gift I have to use. But I don't think I have it in me." His face scrunched in frustration. "Cedric talks of it like it is amazing and his words are coated in sugar and part of me wants to strangle him because it's so annoying. I thought maybe you would have some good advice, but I guess I was wrong."

Remus frowned. "What are you talking about Harry? Of course you have the ability to love. You cared about Sirius, didn't you?"

"Well, yes. But that was different. And that's hardly the advice I was looking for; I didn't take the news of his death very well."

"There is no wrong way to grieve Harry."

Harry's face turned oddly blank, as if his mind was focused on something else. "I think you are wrong about that, but I appreciate the sentiment."

The voice of Kingsley grew louder as he opened the door. "I think it is something to work on. I'll speak to others so we can establish the correct contacts."

Cedric stood at the doorway with a smile on his face. "Hey, Harry. Are you two done here?"

Harry glanced at Remus, and sighed. "Yeah, I guess."

Remus frowned. "I'm sorry; I couldn't say more, Harry. This is something I don't believe I'll be able to help you with."

"Thank you for your time, Remus. I knew it was a long shot anyway. How did things go?" he asked Cedric.

"Spectacular. The details still have to be worked out, but you know…" Cedric shrugged. "Dad's going to be really surprised when he finds out. He always told me I was an idiot for letting myself get expelled. But I think he's going to be really proud of me when he hears about this."

The two left the house, Cedric with a giddy smile and Harry with a slump and dour expression. That night, as Remus ate dinner with Dora, he remembered the distinct contrast between the two. Remus hadn't noticed such as a difference when he taught them. They had been both talented people with dreams, ambitions and a large group of friends. But now the difference was apparent, in that Cedric had found love, something worth fighting for, and a father to make proud. Somehow, Harry failed to recognize the love that was around him. Lily would be horrified.

Dora poked at the green beans on his plate. "Are you going to eat those, Remus?" Her eyes were golden today, a glassy, rich color that made him weak in the knees. "I'm extra hungry today," she said with a laugh as she gave her belly a soft pat.

"No, go ahead," he said as he slid his plate closer to her.

Dora smiled and gave the beans a cheerful stab. "See, baby," she said to her midsection, "Daddy does love us!" She smiled at him and stuffed the green beans in her mouth.

Remus watched her eat without a word, mulling over Harry's attitude versus Cedric's, and Harry's naïve question on something that couldn't be described. If Lily or James were still alive, he wouldn't have asked. It would have been apparent in their every action.

_God, he was a hypocrite._

Dora paused when she noticed him staring at her. "Do I have something on my face?" she asked as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

"No," he replied, swiping the last green bean from the plate. "I was only thinking of the future."

Remus slept easily that night for the first time in months.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**Ernie**

He clutched his wand in his hand tightly, fearing that the sweat from his palm would make him drop it. His heart was beating rapidly in his chest, and he was having difficulty breathing. Ernie looked to his left to see Harry, lying serenely on the ground. His friends' eyes were closed and his feet were propped up against the rock Ernie was clinging desperately to.

"How can you be so calm?" Ernie hissed to his friend, certain that the thumping of his heart could be easily heard in the silence of the forest.

Harry cracked an eye open and gave him a bored look. "The signal hasn't been given yet. Right now we have nothing to fear. Anyway, it was your idea to be out here."

Ernie winced and took a peek over the rock they were hiding behind. Hermione and Dean were back to back, their wands moving in rapid patterns as they set up the wards. He ducked back behind the rock and leaned against it, sliding to the ground. "I know it was my idea to be out here. But if we screw this up…" He moaned in misery. "Why did you listen to me?"

Harry chuckled. "Welcome to my life Ernie. I don't think we'll have trouble with your plan, so now is as good as any to try it out. We won't be able to do this very many times; the enemy will catch on eventually."

"We're ready!" called out Dean. Ernie did his best to stifle his whimper, and was grateful that Harry was too preoccupied in tapping the Galleon in his hand to notice his fear.

Ernie felt a matching coin warm in his pocket and took out his wand. He tapped it on his head and closed his eyes as the icy sensation of the Disillusionment charm slid down his body. Harry had already disappeared by the time Ernie had opened his eyes.

He heard the shuffle of Hermione and Dean as the walked across the road, their feet crunching on the gravel. Ernie strained his ears to hear the words that set the whole thing in motion, but could not. But he felt the magic, the same whooshing sensation that came as someone was about the Apparate in the area. Not a second later, someone did as a distinctive _'crack'_ echoed in the forest.

Ernie tensed as he heard Hermione scream and Dean swear.

"Look what we have here," a rough voice said.

There was a chuckle. "Heh, I think I recognize that one. She was one of the missing girls from Hogwarts. You know… the Seventh Years."

"Yeah, yeah. I think this one is too," said a third voice.

There was a whistle. "I'm going to be eating something good tonight. What's a pair of them worth, a couple hundred of Galleons?"

Ernie came out from behind the rock and made his way to the small group of men, the bounty hunters that were known as _Snatchers_.

It was a silly joke that started it. He had huddled in the cave with the others listening to the first broadcast of Revolution, the new radio program broadcast created by Fred and George. It was from it that they first heard about the Taboo on You-Know-Who's name. It didn't bother the group any, none of them were in the habit of saying his name. However, it was causing some trouble for the people who worked with Dumbledore, since he had encouraged the practice.

Ernie's great-uncle was one of the few people who he had used it, and he was grateful that he had died of old age before the act went into place. He would have been one of the first people captured.

"It's not like we set traps up for them."

"Why don't we?" Harry had mused from his dark corner in the cave.

After that, the situation had snowballed horrifically, and everyone had split up into groups. If all went well, there would be four groups of Snatchers who would lose their wands and be Obliviated today.

He was standing behind a Snatcher right now, a large man with dirty, yellowed fingernails and scars across his face. There was something vaguely familiar about him.

"Do you think they will mind if I get to keep the girl?" he asked as he licked his teeth.

The question sent a tremor of revulsion through Ernie. He recognized the man now as Fenir Greyback. He tightened his grip around his wand. _He couldn't screw this up!_

"Please!" begged Hermione. "You can't do this! I'm pregnant!"

Recognized the code phrase, Ernie raised his wand and set a stunning spell straight for Greyback. It looked like Harry recognized the werewolf as well, because there were two jets of light that soared to him. Greyback was knocked down, but Ernie failed to notice the spells that came his direction. Seconds later he was on the ground as well, his body stiff under the Body Bind Spell.

"I think I got one," cried one, a pimply faced guy. "He's around here somewhere. But where are the others?"

Ernie's eyes widened as the Snatcher stepped forward to search for Harry. One of them nearly stepped on him, the man's foot inches from Ernie's ear. With the Snatchers' backs to Hermione and Dean, they didn't notice the two come lose from their bindings slip and take out their wands.

"Three." Harry's voice came out crisp and clear from somewhere to Ernie's left. The Snatcher's spun in that direction in preparation, nonetheless, one of them hit by Harry's spell and the other two were hit by Hermione and Dean.

Ernie felt the Disillusionment Spell lift from him as Hermione waved her wand above him.

"I saw the grass bend when you fell down," she said. Her face was ashen and her hands moved jerkily. "I was so worried that they were going to step on you."

Ernie breathed a sigh of relief as he reached down to remove the Snatcher's wand. "You aren't the only one; I could smell his feet." He scrunched his nose in disgust. "I think we need to work on our timing a bit though, that was a little too close." He took the wand in his hands and snapped it. It was an oddly satisfying task knowing that he had neutered the magical power for another man.

Dean was propping up one of the Snatchers so Hermione could easily cast a spell.

"Did it work?" Harry called as he stood over Greyback. He made no motion to assist them with their task.

"Yes, I think so." Hermione chewed her lip in nervousness, but gave a firm nod of confidence. "I really only know the theory of Obliviation but he seems to display all of the classic signs. That should be a good enough defense for now."

Dean punched his fist in the air in delight, letting the Snatcher fall down in his negligence. Ernie whooped out loud, he couldn't believe his plan actually worked. Hermione gave a large smile and made her way to the next Snatcher.

Harry dug into his own pocket. "The others have finished as well. When Hermione is finished I want you three to go and meet the others. I'll catch up with you lot later."

Ernie frowned. "What are you going to do?"

Harry looked at the motionless man in front of him. "I have to take care of some business on my own."

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione.

Harry looked at Hermione without expression as he reached into his pocket. "Did you know that Greyback is the reason Lupin is a werewolf? I'm not willing to risk he goes out and attacks children because we outsmarted him. Greyback may not be a part of the Inner Circle, but he has enough contact with them that the Dark Lord with hold him responsible. So do you really want to know what I'm going to do?" His hand emerged from his pocket, and this time, Ernie caught a distinctive flash of silver from a knife.

"You really should go." Harry turned his back and them, and lifted up Greyback's body with a flick of his wand and headed deeper into the forest.

Ernie gaped at Harry, before shaking his head and turning to the others. "Hermione, you have to Obliviate one more. We can't leave the others waiting for us."

Hermione raised her hand and placed it on his elbow. "But-"

"Hermione, drop it," Ernie said. The tone came out harsher than he expected, but Hermione fell silent and cast the Memory Charm on the last Snatcher. Dean was shaking his head in amazement, constantly turning back to look into the woods where Harry had disappeared.

They met the others at the cave; all of them flush with excitement of their own success. Ron was particularly loud, explaining how he had managed to knock out two Snatchers with one spell. Ernie couldn't seem to share their joy, his head to preoccupied by Harry's disappearance. It was half an hour later when Harry showed up, making his way straight to Ernie as he gave the others a small nod.

"Can I speak to you in private?"

Ernie nodded and went with him to the back of the cave and sat on one of the more comfortable boulders. Harry did not sit, preferring to lean against the wall.

"I wanted to thank you for letting me take care of Greyback. It puts me more at ease not having an enemy like him running around," his voice not raising above a murmur.

Ernie squirmed uncomfortably. "Ah…okay." He did NOT want to talk about this.

"I don't expect you to."

"What?"

"I don't expect you to go around killing Death Eaters," Harry continued in his slow, even voice, as if he was talking about the weather. "I know some of the Death Eaters and Snatchers aren't all evil. Some of them have been coerced through blackmail and some of them are simply doing this to stay alive. If we go around acting like the enemy, then the lines between right and wrong grow blurred. Sometimes I think it would be so much easier if we could get rid of them all in one fell swoop. It's a fantasy that I play in my mind sometimes when I'm bored. I'm certain there could be a way for me to do that."

Ernie felt more and more uncomfortable as Harry continued speaking.

"However, that's not the point. The point is to win the war and move on. And we can hardly move on if half the population is dead. I will try to be very prudent in who I… attack. That hasn't been the case in the past and it is a flaw that I'm working on. "

Ernie's jaw clenched tighter as he stared at a spot on the floor. _Harry had killed someone before?_

"And that is where you come in." Harry approached, his steps measured and even.

"There is a task I must perform in order to defeat the Dark Lord, but the semantics are… sketchy. At any rate the chances of my survival are minimal at best. I need you to make certain that you use your best judgment if I'm gone. It's always good to have more than one plan in place."

Ernie blanched. "What? Why me?"

"Because…" Harry shrugged. "You're a Hufflepuff. You don't have the reputation of being a conniving ass like me and you don't suffer from the hot-headed reputation like a Gryffindor. Cedric is pretty good, but the others don't know him very well. I need someone ready to take lead. Hermione didn't like what I was going to do, but you were still able to get her back on task. That sort of leadership is needed. But… and I want to make this, extremely clear, I don't want you to follow in my footsteps. Murder is never a good solution."

_**"Then why did you?"** _The words came out of Ernie's mouth with too much accusation and disappointment.

Harry smiled. A shiver ran down Ernie's back, and even though he could still hear Ron's voice in the background, he felt very much alone.

"Because I wanted to," Harry replied. "It's the easy way out. Killing people is a simpler task than trying to rehabilitate a person who enjoys hurting people." He sighed. "I'm not a hero Ernie. At my best, I'm insane and at my worst I'm a psychotic. If people place all of their hopes on me they are going to be nothing but disappointed. I take my own path Ernie. But make certain you don't follow, it's not safe."

Ernie swallowed. He could understand the disappointment that others would feel; he was feeling it right now. Why else had he, Dean, and Hermione kept silent about Harry's undertaking?

"I would never do that," he said, finally raising his eyes to look at Harry.

Harry's mouth gave a strange twist, as if he found something deeply amusing in Ernie's words. "Never say never when there's forever and ever. Time can stretch out so that years take place in a second and vice versa. It is so hard to say what you will do until you have to choose." He sighed and rubbed at his forehead in irritation. "Anyway, back to the point I was making, I killed Greyback for several reasons. I wanted to get revenge for Remus, I wanted to keep us safe, and I wanted him dead. We are in a war and I'm willing to take lives to help our side. However, I don't want to make it popular information and I don't want you to kill others because you feel it is required."

"Ashamed?" Ernie could hardly believe his daring. But seeing Harry's familiar slouch, messy hair, and perpetual frown made Ernie want to understand.

Harry laughed. "No." He shook his head and gave another chuckle. "Sometimes I think this is all I do."

The tension returned to Ernie's shoulders; he was aghast that Harry found the situation _funny._

"I saw the satisfaction on your face as you snapped the Snatcher's wand, that sort of control can be very addicting. The first time you kill someone is always the hardest, and then…" Harry shrugged. "This war needs heroes, Ernie. I'm asking you to be one of them."

Ernie struggled to form words; Harry's request had left him a little dumbfounded. He tried to understand what Harry saw in him. And why Harry was so relaxed while talking about murder while Ernie was so nauseous that he thought he was going to throw up. But he couldn't comprehend.

Instead, Ernie asked the question that had been on his mind since he saw Harry take Greyback away. "Why won't you be one?"

Harry smiled weakly, and spoke in that familiar and comforting tone. "Ernie, don't you know that cowards make poor heroes?" He placed a hand on Ernie's shoulder and lifted him up from his seat, leading him to the others.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**Bella**

She watched her master circle the room and every step made her anticipation grow. The others didn't understand him like she did. They didn't understand his moods, the meaning of his actions. They didn't see the agitation in his body and they didn't understand that the Dark Lord was about to give them an important order. The idiots around her were silent. They were fearful, as if the Dark Lord was about to punish them for a wrong doing.

The Dark Lord paused and Bella inhaled deeply, eager to hear his words. And when he spoke, she shivered.

"The Order of the Phoenix thinks that they have a solution to the…" He gave a glance to her husband, his eyes coming close to gazing at her. So close.

"The Snatchers, my Lord."

"Yes, _the Snatchers_." The Dark Lord's lip rose to form a sneer. "The wizards think that they are being brave and we must turn their little brand of rebellion to our advantage. Snatchers have been found tied to trees with their wands snapped and their memories crudely manipulated. Of course, the spell was of little challenge to me and we have a wandmaker…"

Bella felt the Dark Mark give its comforting burn on her forearm.

"We must prevent this from becoming a habit. A pair of you will join the snatchers. And this time, if the Order of the Phoenix dares to challenge us, they will find themselves outmatched. I daresay some of you will look forward to this."

The Dark Lord glanced at her briefly and she felt a surge of appreciation to her master. He knew. She had longed for these past few weeks to meet that idiotic girl who dare poison her family tree with the spawn of a werewolf. Bella felt a shiver of anticipation at the promise of a duel. She had not had a one in a long time.

And so she went with her husband and brother-in-law to wait with the Snatchers in the Ministry of Magic. She watched the minions with minimal interest. Neither of them had a recognizable Pureblood name and all of them sparsely talented.

It took seven days for the Order to make their move. Seven miserable days of waiting and she watched every second flick by on that damned clock on the paper pusher's desk, the _click, tick, click, tick_, driving her anticipation to unseen of highs. When the alarm flared, she was up on her feet in an instant.

_Click_

A miniscule pair of lights were flashing; the locations of those fools who dared to speak her master's name. Two lights quite close to each other, mocking **Him.**

_Tick_

She twisted sharply, catching only a glimpse of Rastaban's face as he rose from his seat before she…

_Click_

…Apparated. As soon as she felt the soft earth under her feet, she reached for her wand, the spells coming from her lips without thought. It was only when she heard the screams did she make note of her surroundings, a muddy field with a tree line visible in the distance. She gave another sharp twist, landing a few feet away and gave another slash of her wand.

Bella noticed with some disgust that her enemy wasn't the Order of the Phoenix at all. They were children. Children who didn't know who to duel, who aimed their wands at were she once stood, rather than were she would be. In her anger, she gave a snarl, and delivered a particularly nasty hex to one of the girls, a thin brunette with a sharp face.

She screamed and Bella laughed and spun once more, and hexed, and spun, and with every spell she cast she heard pain.

The world turned hot. She gasped as the searing heat filled her lungs, the fire from an unknown spell. She gave her wand a wave to bat it away, but the heat did not relent. Vexed, she Apparated once more, this time landing in a safer spot. She snarled, but this time she did not see anyone at all. The children had left, leaving behind the stains of blood and their screams in her head.

But she heard something, and she saw something. The wet sound of mud squishing along and the shuffle of grass as it moved. And then a glimpse of someone.

She blinked at the image, the strange sight of Potter's disembodied head running across the field.

If she could bring her master Potter… her heart skipped with desire.

Seconds later she was in the forest, her feet treading carefully among the trees. She did not know why The Dark Lord was so intent on the boy, but she would bring him to her master.

"Little itty bitty Potter is all grown up. Ready to play with the adults now?" The smile grew on her face with every word. She could present Potter to the Dark Lord by herself. Oh, he would be forever happy when she brought back him trussed up like the finest Christmas Turkey.

She heard a twig snap behind her, and she spun around and sent a dark curse, only to catch a glimpse of his feet as he hid behind a tree.

"Hide and Seek is for little children, Potter." She said as she raised her wand and made her way slowly to the rock.

"Nice try. Fighting a flat out battle with you is lunacy."

She licked her lips in anticipation. Oh this would be easy. As if that whiney little brat could handle her, as if she wasn't the greatest and the most revered of all the Dark Lord's servants.

"You are?" he called out, his voice echoing strangely in the forest.

Bella hissed in annoyance, she recognized that he used a charm to distort his voice so she would not be able to locate him through sound alone.

"The Dark Lord," she slashed her wand against a tree, causing a loud crack to erupt, "has little patience for fools. He rewards those who follow him faithfully."

"With a smashing trip to Azkaban. How could anyone resist?"

She snarled, recognizing that impudent tone. He sounded like Snape, so condescending as if he could possibly understand the sacrifice that she made for the Dark Lord. And what had Snape done but hide under the protection of Dumbledore!

"Don't be so jealous. He's your friend isn't he?"

"Snape can go to hell!" She glared at the group of birds in the trees. They were chattering noisily, their sounds like laughter in head.

"Oh, wow. There's a pattern to your attacks. You're so obvious. It's not going to take me anytime to defeat you at all."

"Little wizards better than you have tried."

"Yeah, probably. But you see, they made the mistake of fighting you face to face, I"m not so dumb. Getting back to the subject of Snape, I'm surprised you dislike him so much. Just because he has freedom, and he's running Hogwarts and you are trapped in a room with nothing to do but count the amount of times you are tortured in a day-"

"It isn't like that!" She sent a jet of green light at another movement, only to be disappointed that it was a bird. Snape, the boy had to bring up Snape with **reverence.** As if he respected and honored that slimy little bastard's ability to gain the trust of the Dark Lord. While she, the most talented of all, was stuck trying to eliminate the dregs of wizarding society.

"Oh, now. I'm not that bad. And I have to admit that I prefer Snape. I've had years of teaching from that man, I have to admit that he did a very good job at keeping his nose clean. Why, I wouldn't be surprised if he helped Draco in killing Dumbledore. God knows that my classmate does not have as much skill as he liked to posture. I bet the Dark Lord has told him loads of secrets. He's the confidant. You're just the grunt worker."

"Snape was Dumbledore's pet and only came back to us when he saw that **we** were victorious. Dumbledore already suspected Snape and nothing would have persuaded Dumbledore to trust him unless if he it was the truth. He plays both sides." Bella blasted another spell, to her left, causing one of the rickety trees to bowl over. "The Dark Lord trusts me above all others!"

Laughter, mad, mad, laughter. "I don't believe you."

"He bestowed upon me great gifts."

"Yeah right. Let's see. I know that Lucius Malfoy was given responsibility over the Dark Lord's journal. Granted, he was careless with it. I know that Snape was give responsibility over Hogwarts, in charge of the entire future of the Wizarding world." Some more laughter. "And what do you have? Oh that's right. You get to rescue _Snatchers_."

"He gave me something as well. And unlike Lucius, I did not waste mine!"

"Oh? What did you do, hide it in under your mattress? There's no way the Ministry would have let you keep it after that mess with the Longbottoms."

Bella cackled. "The Ministry has no control over Gringotts." She waved her wand in the air, jets of light streaming in every direction. The sound of violence filled the air as trees shattered from beneath her wand.

She saw him then, lying on the ground motionless with snapped twigs over him. A brief thrill of excitement filled her body as she approached. She grew closer and began to worry. Had she accidentally killed the brat? Potter was a worthless thing, and a average wizard, barely a threat, but he was prize of the Dark Lord. Perhaps she could pin it on one of those worthless wizards who that had been captured? Yes. That was what she had to do.

She was feet away when she heard a twig crack behind her. Bella's wand emitted a curse even as she spun around. She only saw a black cat cross the forest, before her feet gave out from under her.

Bella gasped as she was caught, a tight hold on her wrist and an arm around her neck.

"Why is it," she heard Potter mutter in her ear with a voice as silky as her master's, "that the most powerful wizards expect an attack from the front? One scarecrow that looks a little bit like me and a swish of a wand is all it takes capture the favorite of the Dark Lord."

She tugged as hard as she could, trying to free her wrist from his grasp, only to feel it squeeze impossibly, and it snapped under the pressure. Her cry of pain came out as a pathetic wheeze, the air limited in his tight grasp. Her wand clattered to the floor and for the first time, she began to feel some alarm.

"I stunned your husband and brother-in-law when you were playing with Neville. Maybe if you weren't such a psychopath you would have noticed. It makes it so much easier to break into your vault."

Bella began to fight back as hard as she could, waving her arms as frantically as she could in an effort to free herself from his grasp. She had been so annoyed by the boy that she hadn't kept her tongue shut. If the Dark Lord found out about-

Potter chuckled in her ear. "If it makes you feel any better, the Dark Lord won't see me attack him from behind either." The grip around her neck grew tighter and the world began to go dark as air grew limited.

And for a brief moment, right before consciousness and life slipped away from her, clarity came. She understood the Dark Lord so well now, and why he had demanded Potter all for himself. She understood his obsession with the boy and why it was so important that her master finished him.

And this understanding brought her great _Delight._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**Snape**

Severus Snape caressed the note in his hands, hardly believing the words that were written.

The news of the Lestranges' death had shocked the Inner Circle. Bella had been the Dark Lord's favorite, of that there was no doubt. Her loyalty had come in the form of madness and the Dark Lord had enjoyed the control he had over her.

Severus did not know who had been responsible for her defeat. Severus had not had a proper conversation with any member of the Order since Dumbledore's death. He knew they didn't really trust him, nor did he care to explain himself. Word had only reached of the Lestrange's death when Gringotts sent the Malfoy family the standard notice that they were now in control of the Lestrange's vault.

As appointed Headmaster, Severus was now the Dark Lord's most trusted. Every now and then he would have a mild fancy of irrationality to approach the Dark Lord curse him as he turned his back. But that would be an unsuccessful endeavor. People of the Dark Lord or Dumbledore's skill could not be bested in such a fashion. They were too skilled and observant. This is why part of Severus hated Dumbledore. It was obvious that the old Headmaster had allowed Draco to kill him, there was no way a sixth year could have done so otherwise.

Lucius and Narcissa had spoken of night terrors over the summer, a trend that had gradually morphed into insomnia. It was for this reason the Dark Lord had allowed Draco to attend Hogwarts for the last year rather than spend his days in Death Eater business as he viewed Draco's success as little more than a fluke.

The seventh year class of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry consisted of eight students all belonging to the Slytherin house. The rest, despite the mandatory law, had forgone attending and chosen to go into hiding. Severus had expected a few of the students to be missing. But seeing the empty seats made Severus blood grow cold. Their disappearance had been pre-meditated, planned. Greengrass and Zabini's disappearance had cemented the leader: Potter.

He absently touched the bridge of his nose as he recalled he punch he received towards the end of the school year. There had been a change in the boy. Severus had been content to ignore Potter during most of his school years since McGonagall had been more than happy to take up the position as his protector. But a trend formed with every year that passed, he was devious. Potter had avoided most of trouble that surrounded him, evading accusations and punishment where others could not. While some situations were unavoidable, others like Dumbledore's Army were not.

And there was something wild in Potter, and for a brief second Severus had caught a glimpse. It was an attitude that Dumbledore had expressed so much concern over. It wasn't the word or the actions that caused Severus to pause. It was Potter's confidence.

And now, on this September day, Severus was greeted with a message, delivered in the same messy handwriting he had seen on so many essays. He had received the message in the Great Hall during breakfast time

_See you soon._

Severus cursed the boy for being such a fool. It was fortunate that the Carrows were too busy stuffing their faces to notice the stiffness of his demeanor. He had managed to avoid suspicion from them, but he did catch McGonagall's, and he felt her gaze as he walked across the Great Hall. No doubt it would be the speculation for the next Order meeting, if they even held those anymore.

Snape opened up the door to the Headmaster's office and froze. Sitting at his desk was Potter, his feet slung casually over the arm rest of chair. Snape felt his anger boil, the boy was important to defeating the Dark Lord, and there he was in plain sight_. And how had he managed to sneak inside the castle?_

Potter looked up from the desk, his face expressionless. "Were you in love?"


	54. Ch 50 Money

**Chapter Fifty**

**Money**

_**We do what we must, Lucien. Sometimes we can choose the path we follow. Sometimes our choices are made for us. And sometimes we have no choice at all.**_

Dream in _The Kindly Ones

* * *

_

"Were you in love?"

Harry felt sick even as he asked the words, the last thing he wanted to know was personal information about Snape, as if he gave a damn about the man. And worse yet, Snape had not responded with a snappish denial or a hex. Instead, he watched the man's face grow pale and the anger from his face slip under the weight of four little words.

Bella had been useful in more than one way. Ernie's plan to hunt Snatchers ceased after the incident with the other Death Eaters and her double-sided benefit. Daphne had been hit by a blood-letting curse, Neville with a Cruciatus, and several more suffered burns and twisted ankles. Harry had made quick work of Rastaban and Rodolphus and he followed the screams to find Bella.

The stories said that she wasn't all there. And insane people know things that sane people don't. So when Bella pointed out there was no reason for Dumbledore to believe that Snape showed remorse, Harry listened. Dumbledore had repeated that he trusted Snape and that the man had shown true remorse.

Everyone doubted his word, only believing because Dumbledore believed. The school, the Ministry, the Order all kept their questions at bay because of Dumbledore's word. But Harry never really trusted his former Potions teacher. There was something about him that set Harry ill at ease. It wasn't his Snape's dubious nature. Nor was it his exceptional skill in Occlumency that allowed every secret to stay locked in his mind. Harry didn't like Snape because of a more basic reason.

Snape never liked him.

Harry had never had received such loathing from anyone before. Most people were charmed by him, finding something in his fluid personality that they recognized in themselves. Hell, even the Dark Lord had a reason to hate him, for the sake of a misheard prophecy and Harry's own cagey interference. But Snape had not liked him from the beginning, and even after Harry approached him during his first year, the dislike had not dissipated. The best Harry had been able to do was to be ignored.

He didn't know what this meant; all he knew was that he never fully trusted the Potions teacher. When Bella revealed her distrust, she made Harry wonder why exactly Dumbledore would change his mind about such a clearly dubious person. There was no way Snape would have become such an important member of the Inner Circle if he hadn't been a true Death Eater at some point. Why would Snape turn away from the Dark Lord and all of the power he had to offer? Dumbledore would have believed only one reason: the power of love.

Harry had not been able to understand the soppy ideals of love that Cedric expressed. Remus had been unable to articulate what he saw in Dora, only being able to acknowledge she made him happy despite their questionable future. As such, Harry found nothing useful in that line of questioning, and he wasn't sure if he would be able to follow Desire's suggestion. He had begun to resign himself as incapable of falling in love.

Yet, Snape was standing at the doorway to the Headmaster's office as if Harry had seen right into his mind.

"You were in love," Harry muttered. "I can't believe it." He glanced at the Maurader's Map in front of him, watching the Great Hall empty as the students went on their way to class. The scar on his heart made by Desire's hands was giving off a slow throb. He was unwilling to believe that someone so repulsive and unyielding and unpleasant had managed something that Harry found so difficult to understand.

"Why are you here, Potter?" Snape questioned, his voice raspy.

Harry looked up from the map. "I wanted some help."

Snape removed the wand from his pocket. "And what makes you so certain that I am going to give it to you? I could easily hand you over to the Carrows and place you in front of the Dark Lord." Harry resisted the urge to smirk; he had clearly hit a nerve.

"That implies that you are on the Dark Lord's side and you're not. There's only one thing that would have convinced Dumbledore you had switched sides and that was love. Great power and all of that rubbish." He saw Snape frown angrily. "Oh, don't worry, I'm not going to ask for details. She's obviously dead since you are more of the revenge type. And if you want the Dark Lord dead, you are going to help me."

Despite his curiosity, Harry didn't want to hear about Snape's squishy emotions. The last thing he wanted to hear was some sob story about a greasy haired, ugly woman who his Potions teacher had made a connection with. Or even worse, hearing she was a pretty girl who turned him from a simpering idiot into a bitter hardened man. He liked thinking that Snape had always been an emotionless void.

Snape looked at him with an expressionless face; his dark eyes an unsettling sight even in the daylight. "I take orders from very few, Potter."

Harry laughed. "Okay, I see how this is going to go. You still hate me. Ah, well. It doesn't matter. I don't really need you anyways."

Snape arched an eyebrow as he stepped forward. "Yes, that is clear. Why else would you break into a school you abandoned and risk being caught by the Dark Lord's followers if you didn't need me?" He pushed Harry's feet off the desk and onto the floor.

"For the fun. For the challenge. To see McGonagall. To see Draco. To fight the Carrows. To screw with your mind." Harry rose from the seat and walked to the window. As he made his way over, he double-check the cabinet door he had opened was properly shut. "So yeah, that's a few of the possibilities."

"Your arrogance astounds me, Potter. You simply think you can walk into this school and tell me what to do. Not to mention you think you can leave this place undetected. And to top it off, you act if this is all some sort of childhood game you can play."

Harry snorted as he turned back to face Snape. "I can do whatever I want."

Snape's face twisted into a strange expression. "So like your father. He thought he could do whatever he wanted as well. It didn't matter who or what was in his path. He did well for some time, and then he met the Dark Lord."

Harry stiffened. He didn't like hearing about his parents, the very subject of their life and death made him uncomfortable. "Be quiet about my father," he snapped.

Snape gave a smirk at Harry's response. Harry realized that he had given up a weakness of his own. It was a strange little game that they were playing, each of them trying to maintain an emotionless veneer as they raged on the inside. He had just of a good of a chance of having a heartfelt connection with Snape as he did with a Hagrid's undergarments.

"I've noticed your efforts have gotten you nowhere, despite your merry band of followers. What have you been doing?"

Harry inhaled sharply; Snape's words bristling under his skin. "It's none of your business." The scar on his forehead began to burn, and Harry struggled to maintain the Occlumency shield that kept the pain away.

"It is my business Potter. You are in my school. My how your father would be so ashamed of you, hiding like a coward instead of being a hero."

Harry's anger dissipated at Snape's bizarre statement. "Hero?"

Perhaps at another time, he would have been incensed by the words and attacked Snape without thought. But right now he was focused on maintaining his composure and not letting Snape see any of his flaws. And because of this, he caught the man's tiny slip of the tongue.

Harry wasn't a hero, and he wasn't expected to be a hero. The vast majority of the wizarding world viewed him with little more than an afterthought; they were so preoccupied with keeping their own skins safe. He didn't have the dazzling stories of bravery and power of Dumbledore. All he had was the story of his parent's death and the Dark Lord's intentions to kill him. Even those who knew him well, like Remus, thought he was fighting to survive. But they didn't expect him to have any major impact.

If Snape thought Harry was trying to be a hero, it meant Dumbledore had told Snape something about the Prophecy.

"Yes, hero," Snape continued. "Your father was so fond of the spotlight, and you do nothing but skulk in the shadows like a rat."

"I don't like rats," Harry replied. He crinkled his forehead in thought. If he had time, perhaps he could discover exactly what it was that made Snape react. Unfortunately, the uneven ground where Harry found himself on made it very difficult. He could not longer tell the exact moment when people would yield to his careful prodding. That gift had broken when he killed Dumbledore, leaving a churning mass of power inside of him that he couldn't really control. Harry didn't plan very far ahead nowadays, aware that he might not have time enough to act on them. And who knows when the next opportunity to talk to Snape would be. He would simply have to improvise.

Harry ran his finger over one of the objects on the desk, a globe paperweight that predicted the weather. "It looked a bit like this." He lifted up the globe to see a tiny rainstorm that would arrive the next day.

Snape's nostrils flared in impatience. "What are you talking about?"

"The prophecy. It was shaped like an orb this size." Harry looked up to see Snape, whose face had once again turned blank. "How much did he tell you?"

Snape stared at him as he tried to see where Harry was going with this. "The Dark Lord does not speak of the prophecy."

Harry tossed the globe in the air, letting the storm of tomorrow spin above his head, and then land on his palm again. A memory tickled at his brain, one of Draco taunting Neville as he held a Remembrall in his hands. Harry placed the paperweight back on the desk and smiled like Vernon on a sales pitch.

"I was talking about Dumbledore."

There was a pause. "What makes you think he would do such a thing?"

Harry clapped his hands, a mocking applause that he knew would grate on Snape's nerves. "Bravo, excellent evasion of the question. If I wasn't so good at the skill I probably would have taken lessons from you. Dumbledore trusted you; you were his lovely little two-sided spy who would help win the war. I don't envy that role you play, not one bit. It has to be hard for you. Being a spy means you have to juggle the personal with the professional, and the conflicts of your own personality. After all, with a personality like yours, it must be hard to make friends. It must be downright impossible when they can't even figure out who you are."

Harry was on the right track. Normally, Snape would have interrupted with one of his own dry comments by now.

"Dumbledore had to tell you something to keep you satisfied. I don't care how intent you were for revenge, without a small victory every once and a while you would have quit by now, and that brings me back to the prophecy. What did he tell you?"

Snape was looking out the window now, trapped in his own thoughts. Harry was more that content to wait for an answer in silence.

"Dumbledore believed you were important to the defeat of the Dark Lord."

"That's it?" Harry frowned in disappointment; he thought there was so much more to glean from this encounter. "Hell, I could have told you that. I can't believe you were swindled by such a lame explanation. It turns out that you were nothing more than Dumbledore's well-kept pet-"

Harry barely had time to evade Snape's spell, catching only a flash of light as he ducked behind the desk. The chair next to him shattered, causing bits of wood to cover his cloak.

"I am so much more than that Potter!"

Harry swore, he had not meant to push Snape _so far_. "Careful now. I can't help defeat the Dark Lord if I'm dead."

"I have no intent of killing you Potter. But I believe a little humiliation will go a long way to deflating that ego of yours."

"Ego? That implies that I don't have the talent to back up my words."

Harry waved his wand at the bookshelf in the corner, forcing them in Snape's general direction. He heard the man grunt with surprise as a few connected. This fight had to stop soon; otherwise Snape wouldn't tell him anything.

Suddenly, Harry's feet went out from under him and he found himself hanging by his ankles like a chicken from a grocery store window. Snape was standing in front of him with an angry expression, and a large red splotch where a particularly heavy book had hit him.

"You are nothing but an untalented boy, and it was only a fortunate amount of luck that brought you were you are today."

"Put me down."

Snape gave an ugly smile. "I think this look suits you." He waved his wand and Harry began to spin. Harry swore as the rotation grew faster. It was as if the man hated his very _existence._ "I was not "Dumbledore's pet," as you put it. He trusted me beyond all others."

"Now you sound like Bellatrix right before I killed her."

The movement abruptly stopped and Snape grabbed Harry's chin to see him properly. "You killed Bella? I highly doubt someone so pathetic-" The sentence broke off in a cry of pain as Harry grabbed his wrist and twisted, causing Snape to tumble on the floor. Harry kicked him in the stomach for good measure and tossed the wand to the side of the room.

"I sort of did it like this," Harry said as he pointed his own wand to Snape's head. "It's not graceful, but it works well enough. Now let's try this again. What did Dumbledore tell you?"

Snape was clutching his wrist, his face red in anger and his hair askew, looking as far from a Headmaster as possible. "Dumbledore told me that you had to die in order for the Dark Lord to be defeated," he spat.

Harry's wand wavered slightly in his hand. It was hard to believe that Dumbledore would have left such a crucial piece of information with Snape of all people. Most people didn't want to deliver a death sentence, but why leave the message with Snape? It would have been a more prudent choice to leave it with McGonagall; at least there was a greater chance of him talking to her. And it was somewhat irritating.

"Why would he tell you that?"

"Dumbledore said I should deliver the message when the Dark Lord becomes possessive about Naigini. He knew that I would deliver the message."

"I know about the snake," said Harry. "You wouldn't happen to know where it is, would you?"

Snape eyes narrowed. "You're handling the news of your upcoming death well."

Harry stood up on his feet. "I already knew." He ignored the man's shocked expression. "There's a magic that binds our lives together and he can't die if I'm still around. At least that's the theory. But first I need the snake."

"The Dark Lord mentioned that Naigini was to wait for you. I do not know where. I suppose it would be a place that he believes you will most certainly visit."

"A place I would visit?" Harry lowered his wand as he puzzled over the information.

"Yes," replied Snape as he smoothed out his hair. "Perhaps a friend's house or your dratted godfather's grave."

"No. Most of those have protective charms set up and I wouldn't dare go to someplace so obvious. Sentimentality is all well and great, but there's a price on my head. The Dark Lord thinks that he knows me, but I think I've been creative to avoid most of his…oh."

"Potter?"

"The Ministry of Magic."

Snape stared at Harry in disbelief. "Why on earth would the Dark Lord leave Naigini there? It's utter nonsense."

Harry rolled his eyes and stuffed his wand back into his pocket. "The Dark Lord and I share several traits, some of which you can appreciate as well. Ambition, cleverness, and a certain cageyness that makes us so difficult to catch. He knows one of the things that I love doing is takings his little plans, the ones he has worked so hard for, and tearing them into little shreds. I used _his _sign to escape the graveyard as a forth year, I did it with the prophecy, and I pretty much eliminated the Snatchers the same way. Inevitably, because of his need for control and my need to destroy, I would end up at the Ministry."

"I was hoping to infiltrate the Ministry in a few months, but it appears I'll have to move that up." Harry rubbed his forehead in exhaustion. There were still a lot of things left to do.

"Only an idiot would think about walking right into a trap! Do you honestly think that destroying one snake will be enough to eliminate the Dark Lord?" Snape voice was empty of hate and had taken on a distressed quality instead.

Harry looked at his former teacher with bemusement by Snape's change in attitude. "It's not like I really have a choice. Thank you for your help."

Before Snape could say anything, Harry jumped out the window. His hand caught on the rope he had used earlier to hoist himself and shimmed down to enter in the window from the floor below. Once inside the empty room, he tossed on his Invisibility Cloak and walked to the hallway. He heard the stone gargoyle of the Headmaster's office move and began to proceed quickly down the hall. Harry hadn't broken in the office to use the Pensieve only to have Snape foil the rest of his business at Hogwarts.

He double-checked to make certain that the copied goblet was in his pocket and then made his way to the Slytherin hallway for a few hours of waiting.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Draco shook his head. "I can't, I can't..."

"Of course you can. Think of it as your time to shine," said the voice hidden in the shadows.

Draco swallowed as he stepped forward and up the steps of Gringotts. He hated Potter so much for this. It was insane trying to break out anything out from the bank. His eyes flickered over the stern warning carved into the bank's walls. The words had never seemed so important until today.

"Hold on there," grunted a goblin as it swept a Probity Probe over him. "Go ahead."

He made his way through the mostly empty lobby and toward a bored goblin sitting behind the counter.

"What is your business?" the goblin asked as it continued to write.

His mouth felt dry. "I'm making a deposit. Vault Number Eight." Draco licked his lips.

The goblin looked up from his paperwork at stared at him. "Vault Eight, you say?"

Draco gave a stiff nod, making certain that he didn't flinch from the goblin's unnaturally sharp gaze. The goblin lowered itself from the tall chair and made its way further to the back. He watched it confer with a few other goblins before one made its way over.

"I'll be taking you to the vault."

Draco followed the squat goblin to the entrance of the cave. He noticed that this one was lacking the white tufts of hair that came with age. This one was younger and had the look of a fighter, plus there was a small sword on its hip. Draco climbed into the cart behind the goblin and they lurched down the rickety tracks. The goblin' mouth twisted into a bizarre smile. That was when Draco knew this one was biding his time, simply waiting for the mistake that would give it the permission to toss him off of the cart and into the darkness below him.

Once again, Draco cursed Potter under his breath.

They made a series of rapid loops that made his head spin.

"Is that necessary?" he snapped toward the goblin. His nerves were bad enough, and the dizziness was not helping

"Yes," it replied. "Anti-theft measures." The answer was brief, but the tone was unmistakably one of distrust. Draco felt blood rise to his face. _They knew._

Finally, the cart lurched to a stop and they clambered out if it to approach the dragon. The goblin rang a set of bells in a peculiar rhythm that echoed loudly against the stone walls. The dragon, a gigantic monster with flaky skin and sharp teeth, moved aside slowly. Draco looked at it warily as he passed, not entirely certain if the monster would attack him or not. The goblin placed his hand against the bank door and it slowly began to open. Draco entered the vault while the goblin stayed outside.

The door shut, leaving him in darkness.

"Lumos," he said in a whisper, far too weak for his own liking. The comforting light of his wand appeared, illuminating the large pile of Galleons at his feet. He resisted the urge to grab a handful and stuff them in his pocket. It was bad enough that Potter had forced him in here, the last thing he wanted was for any most suspicions to be raised. Draco waved the wand in his hand, searching for the gold cup that was so important. He found it near the top. When a Summoning Spell proved useless, Draco knew he had the correct item.

He placed his wand in his mouth and began to climb, using the shelves as a makeshift ladder. The wooden shelves gave an ominous groan and bowed under his weight. It was a good thing he wasn't as fat as Weasley, otherwise it wouldn't have held.

Draco reached into his robe and removed the goblet that was tucked into his pocket and placed it on the shelf. He admired the two cups as they sat their side by side, identical in nearly every way. If Draco was not looking for the differences he wouldn't have noticed. Potter's replica lacked some of the finer details as if he had done it by memory rather than having the object. He removed the original cup and placed it in his pocket, careful to use the handkerchief in his hand to shield himself. Potter had warned that the object would likely be cursed.

As if Draco couldn't figure that out himself.

He carefully made his way down the shelves, slipping on the last one and landing hard on a pile of Galleons on the vault floor. The enticing sound of money filled the air as the coins scattered from underneath his body. Draco clenched a handful of the coins in his hands as he lifted himself to his feet. Seeing the pile of gold at his feet made it easy to dream of freedom.

_How easy would it be to take this money and leave everything behind? _

The vault door began to open with a series of progressive clicks as the locks slid away. The goblin appeared at the doorway moments later.

"Is everything to order, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's hand loosened its grip and the gold slipped from his fingers to clatter on the floor. This time the money sounded less like freedom and more like chains, wrapping and squeezing around him tighter.

He gave a thin smile. "Yes. I was just looking around." He reached into his robes once more, this time removing a thin wooden box and placed it on the shelf. He did not open it.

"Will that be all?" The goblin gave a pained smile, it was clear that he was eager to be rid of him.

Draco dusted his robes and brushed off some of the wrinkles that had formed. "Yes, I believe so."

The cart ride back to the surface was even more nauseating as nerves rattled his body. Draco's imagination had taken hold of him, and a large part of him was certain that he would be accosted when he reached the surface. But there were only a few goblins there, most of them with their arms loaded with precious jewels. They paid no attention to Draco as he crossed the hall and out the door. Even the goblin who assisted him was all too happy to ignore him after witnessing Draco's deposit.

He exited Gringotts and immediately made his way back to the Borgin and Burkes. No sooner had he rounded the corner of the bank was he yanked into the shadows.

"Disillusionment spells," Potter hissed. Draco yell was muffled by a hand that was pressed against his mouth and nose. The grip yielded and Draco cast the spell quickly, shuddering as the magic slid over his body. He squinted to catch a better look, but the culprit was invisible as well.

"Potter?" he whispered.

Apprehension griped Draco's body once more, fraying his weak nerves. Draco gave a sigh of relief when Potter's hand appeared out of nowhere and waved a handkerchief.

"We should get going."

Draco grudgingly placed on the blindfold as Potter's hand tightened around his elbow. The world tightened impossibly, the sensation of Apparation, and he stumbled upon arrival, blind to the world around him. Potter yanked him upright as his arm slid up to grip his shoulder.

"Hello, Ariana. How are you doing?"

Draco strained his ears to hear a response but all that was forthcoming was silence.

Potter cleared his throat. "Thank you. If you'll excuse me, I need to return this one. Let me through?" There was a groan of a door and Potter pulled at his elbow again.

The passage back to Hogwarts lasted forever because Draco was required to leave the blindfold in place. The experience led him feeling even more vulnerable since he was entirely dependent on Potter in more ways than one. The ground slanted down and up. The moisture from the stone walls made the passage musty, and it tickled at Draco's nose. He held his breath, worried that a sneeze would give him away.

The only other thing he could sense was the sound of his own hesitant shuffle and the series of easy and measured steps from Potter.

clip clop

clip clop

clip tap

Tap TAP

_Tap TAP_

The persistent rhythm gored through Draco's brain. A feeling of déjà vu overcame him as he recalled a similar situation. How it felt like a spring inside him was growing tighter with every beat.

_Tap TAP_

The most difficult part of the task was over and only now was Draco's body breaking out in a cold sweat. He gasped in relief when the rhythm faltered and then silenced.

Potter spoke again, his voice soft. "Three steps up."

Draco lifted his right leg hesitantly and Potter tugged him forward in impatience. Draco thought he would stumble, and was a bit puzzled with his success.

"The cup?"

Draco reached into his pocket and handed the goblet over in silence. He really wanted to remove the blindfold, but like the gold, he resisted the temptation. Potter's offer is almost too good to be true.

"Excellent." Draco noted the slight awe in Harry's voice, quite different from the dry comments so often delivered. It was a strange sound and it occurred to Draco that he never once saw Potter impressed. Not when McGonagall revealed her Animagus form, not during the Triwizard tournament, and not when he was discovered by Umbridge. But alone in the darkness with his thoughts, the revelation came to him easily. How much had he missed because he had been so obsessed with appearances?

"What about our deal?" Draco asked.

"It will be fulfilled." Potter said; the response far too dismissive for his liking.

"You promised!" Draco's voice cracked embarrassingly. He had already begged to Potter once before, a plea for forgiveness that had made his life hell. Potter framed Draco for a murder that threw him in the spotlight of the Dark Lord and making him an outcast to everyone. The Death Eaters hated him for succeeding where they had failed and everyone else hated him for killing their leader. Snape had warned him that it was only a matter of time before people would go after him, simply to prove that he was lucky when he killed Dumbledore.

Draco had laughed at that, because the situation was as far from luck as possible.

"You promised, Potter," he repeated when there was no response.

"I know that." Potter said in amusement. "You should think of your actions as a brave stand against the Dark Lord. You might gain some satisfaction from it."

"It was blackmail!" Draco reached out to smack Potter with a hand but was only met with air.

"Yes, that too," Potter hummed. "Isn't amazing how something can be more that one thing? It's all about _perspectiv_e. One man's blackmail is another man's insurance. The sun sets in one place and rises in another." Potter's tone became crisp. "And one woman's family heirloom is another man's _**Horcrux**_."

Horcrux. The word made Draco's heart squeeze in his chest.

He knew nothing about them until an hour ago. Potter had accosted him in the hallways, took him to an empty room, and announced that Draco would go to the Lestrange vault. Of course, Draco had resisted, explaining that the Dark Lord had forbidden anyone from removing anything. However, his plan to go to the Carrows and confess Potter's plan died when Potter explained why the vault was so important. He explained what a Horcrux did, and how the Dark Lord was immortal. The entire fight against the Dark Lord was pointless until they were destroyed. And it had been for over fifty years.

The news caused Draco to recoil in his chair. His father wasn't even that old.

And then Potter had reached into his pocket, withdrew the box, and opened it.

"As far as anyone knows you are there to make a deposit."

And now here he was, standing in a darkened hallway with a blindfold on his face, begging. "You'll get rid of it?"

Potter had started pulling him by his arm again. "Of course. I've already made arrangements. For your assistance, I will argue for your freedom at the end of the war. I would like to point out the obvious, just in case if it didn't sink in. You stay silent about this little trip of ours. You don't want to end up like Regulus Black."

"Regulus Black?" Draco echoed in puzzlement. "Who's that?"

"_Exactly._" A dark chuckle. "Who is Regulus Black? Other than a Death Eater that got in too deep and discovered about the Dark Lord's Horcruxes twenty years ago." Potter's hand let go of Draco's arm as they stopped. "Does that description sound familiar?"

The blindfold came off and Draco found himself in front of the Slytherin common room. Potter was nowhere to be seen, but Draco knew that he was somewhere, hiding in the shadows.

He walked back into the darkened Common Room, feeling no lighter than before. If the Dark Lord ever found out; Draco and his family were dead. Even if the war ended, there was no guarantee that the opposing side would forgive him for his deeds. Everything rested on him trusting Potter, which of course he didn't.

But what other choice did he have?

* * *

**A/N**: Snape was supposed to confess his love for Lily in this chapter. But every time I wrote the scene, they ended up hexing each other instead. :D

**Next Chapter: **Brain Damage


	55. Ch 51 Brain Damage

**Chapter Fifty-One**

**Brain Damage**

_**We have seen stranger things in dreams; and fictions are merely frozen dreams, linked images with some semblance of structure. They are not to be trusted, no more than the people who create them**_**.**

~The Doll's House

* * *

Mafalda Hopkirk, the witch in charge of the Improper Use of Magic Department, hated going to work.

Her mother had encouraged her to enter the Ministry when she graduated Hogwarts. Mafalda's N.E.W.T.s were high, but not enough to make her shine out from some of the other people in her class. So she took her mother's suggestion and ended up with work in one of the smaller offices. Through time, persistence, and some luck, she ended up with a fairly important role.

It was her unwavering gratitude that caused her to have so much trouble.

She hadn't believed the rumors of You-Know-Whos return. She had been invited to the Malfoy home several times for dinner, and was disinclined to believe the horrible stories of him. So when her employees spoke in hushed whispers instead of doing their work, she silenced them. Eventually they learned of her beliefs and they stopped their mutters and Malfada was able to continue her work in peace.

When Dumbledore died everything became a nightmare.

The Ministry that she had worked for disappeared and she was stuck in an organization that she did not agree with and with people that she could not stand. Her employees who had whispered in the hallways vanished to places unknown. She wasn't certain which ones had hidden and which ones had been killed. She knew some had been captured and dragged across the hall to be held on trial where the Dementors waited to take them away to Azkaban.

It had been very hard to her work with all of their screaming.

And on this rainy day in October, Mafalda was entering the Ministry of Magic for another tedious day of staring at a map and alerting the wizards in charge of a violation of magic. It had been a hard task at first, knowing that the blinking lights on the wall meant that someone would be hurt in a few seconds. But over time it grew easier and she remained safe from harm.

She hadn't run away and she hadn't shirked back from her work. And while the people in charge of the new Ministry didn't give her much responsibility, they knew she was trustworthy and did her work. Mafalda was invisible to the Death Eaters and that was how she liked it.

She still didn't like working for them though.

Mafalda swept out of the elevator and into the main lobby. There were only a few wizards working there now, the ranks of Ministry employees had gone down significantly since the beginning of the summer. Most of the people working there now were purebloods who minded their own business.

Lunchtime was a quiet affair.

Mafalda reached her office and went to her desk to pull out a sheet of paper. She opened up the drawer, pulled out a quill and then she hesitated. More often than not, Mafalda reached for the black ink. But today felt different. Today, Mafalda felt _daring. _

She reached for the red ink, and dipped her quill into the pot.

It wasn't long before a light on the map flashed and she scrawled the location, the noise of the quill sent a small amount of goosebumps to crawl on her flesh. Then she went over to the large tome on her desk and cross referenced the crime. She continued her work judiciously, never hesitating to write down the infractions that came her way. It wasn't her job to think of the people who were hiding away from the Ministry or of their fates. Mafalda would send the list to a different department at the end of the day and then it wasn't in her hands anymore. Perhaps it would be followed up by punishment, or perhaps not. Mafalda did not ruminate on the consequences.

It wasn't her job.

The small clock on her desk chimed when it hit ten o'clock. She placed her quill down and yawned as she gave a small stretch. She waited for a few minutes, but no more alerts came her way. Her body was beginning to cramp up and she was getting a bit tired of sitting. Perhaps she would go fetch herself a cup of tea.

Mafalda made her way over to the door and opened it. She took two steps into the hallway and then collapsed asleep.

_Mafalda felt very small. Then again she was standing in a forest of the strangest quality. The lollipop forest that she used to dream of as a child had come back to her once again. She smiled and made her way down the familiar road of her childhood._

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry Potter, wizard with a ten thousand galleon price on his head, walked into the Ministry of Magic without worry.

Blaise and his wonderful Polyjuice-making skills had struck once again and allowed him to mingle around the building unnoticed. Employees who were supposed to hunt him down failed as no one paid any attention as he bustled down the hallway. Up here, down the stairs there, everyone ignored the dowdy man dressed in Magical Maintenance robes. As Harry traveled the hallways of the building, something became depressingly clear: there were no signs of Nagini.

There were no warnings that said, "Careful poisonous snake" and no secret nooks that were forbidden. The Ministry of Magic was the center of The Dark Lord's government, but it was full bureaucratic paperwork and the indifferent drones.

A clock on the wall chimed ten and Harry sighed. _Where had the time gone?_

Harry made his way back to the maintenance room where the cleaning supplies were stored. There was a device along the wall that modified the weather windows and in the back was a ventilation system where the temperature was adjusted. Harry was the only one present in the room since most of the cleaning wizards were doing their work. He reached into his pocket and pulled at the familiar bag of sand.

"A handful of dust," he whispered as he concentrated on the effects he wanted from the red sand. He tossed the seventh handful into the vents and withdrew a handkerchief and held it to his face. The sand had never effected him directly before, but he did not want to tempt fate.

Soon enough, he began to hear the signs Dream's sand take effect. It would have been a terrifying sound for most, the sound of bodies falling heavily to the ground. But for Harry it was a comforting sound. Even with the mask on his face, he could feel the sand trying to take its effect on him. He shook his head in an effort to stay awake, but he could feel it pulling him down. Just as Harry's eyelids grew heavy, a burst of pain from the scar on his forehead startled him.

Harry slapped a hand to his head and clenched his teeth as the pain subsided. The pain was coming more often nowadays despite Harry's continued use of Occlumency. The connection was growing stronger. Or perhaps the Dark Lord and Harry couldn't exist in the world and they were beginning to wear each other out. Nonetheless, the urge to fall asleep had fallen away.

Noticing that the Ministry had gone quiet, Harry reached for the door and pulled it open.

The Ministry employees were strewn out on the ground and unmoving in their heavy slumber.

The Polyjuice Potion was beginning to wear off and the extra weight from the anonymous wizard shivered off of his skin. He stepped over the employees' still forms and made his way to Department of Magical Transportation. The Floo System was mostly closed nowadays because of the Ministry's voracious efforts to regulate people. The people who had access to it were far and few between. Harry carefully locked all of the gates to prevent any unwelcome visitors and opened one gate, the one for Sirius' home in Hogsmeade.

The fireplace came to life and his friends began to tumble out. Harry smiled as they arrived, feeling a little bit smug that his plan was working so far.

"You know what to do," he said as he saw George come out and the fireplace die back down. There was air of tension in his friends.

"Are you certain that they will stay asleep?" Hermione was chewing her lip in nervousness. "There are so many people here at the Ministry and it might not have been enough sleeping powder for them to get a good dose of it."

Harry rolled his eyes. "It's concentrated sleeping powder that should last." That was a complete truth because nothing could possibly be as potent as sand from The Dream King. "We'll know when they are about to wake up long before they actually do. But that doesn't mean we won't have uninvited guests, so you need to hurry up."

They nodded, opened the door and went to their respective assignments.

* * *

_Mafalda walked deeper into the forest of candy and lollipops. She looked up to the bright sky when it began to drizzle._

_It had been raining earlier, she thought, but the thought was loose and indistinct._

_ Malfada forgot all about the grey London weather and only cherished the feeling of rain down her cheeks._

_

* * *

_

Harry made his way over the lift and heard the loud bang of a Weasley firework set off behind him. By the time he and his friends were through, the Ministry of Magic would be lucky to still be standing. In fact, it was Harry's hope that everything would be burned to nothingness. Harry and the others were hoping to wrest away the Death Eater's advantage and place the sides on even ground once more.

The doors to the lift opened and he entered the dark and largely empty hallway. There were very few people sleeping in the Department of Mysteries. The Dark Lord placed little interest in the secrets of magic that he didn't already understand. Harry placed his hand on each doorknob and gave it a twist. Each produced a soft click as the door gave way under his fingertips and a simple glance told him it was not the room he was looking for.

The sixth door did not yield so kindly.

Harry brushed his thumb over the lock and his heart gave a flutter. The door gave a sigh, and snapped open.

* * *

_The candy forest began to melt from the rain. Mafalda placed a hand against the lollipop stick of a trunk _

_and felt the colored sugar beneath her hand. She raised her hand to her lips and was _

_delighted to find out that the forest tasted like cherries, her favorite._

_

* * *

_

The room of love was largely empty and unremarkable. Harry's excursion into the room of prophecies contained shelves of translucent glass globes filled with the memories of predictions unknown. The room of memory contained giant brains and the room of time had hourglasses filled with sand that wound down imperceptible moments. But in the room of love there were only several tables and chairs and a small shelf of books. Harry did not see any magical artifacts corresponding to the power of love. There was a golden mirror on the back wall and Harry felt his pulse tighten as he made his way over.

The mirror glazed over with mist as he stood before it. Harry raised his hand to wipe it off and saw his face staring back at him. And then he saw Desire appear behind his reflection.

* * *

_She heard a heavy thump of footsteps behind her. Turning around, she saw a large humanlike figure, as large as a rhinoceros, _

_with sharp teeth like a dragon and the terrifying attitude of a scorned lover. _

_"What are you doing here?" Mafalda stammered._

_The monster in grinned at her. "What am I doing here? What are you doing here? This is my forest that you roam."

* * *

_

Desire smiled. "Hello, Harry."

"Hi." Harry looked over his shoulder to see no one behind him but the image in the mirror remained. He reached into his pocket for the Hufflepuff cup in his coat. "I still haven't found the snake. I thought for certain that it would be in the Ministry but I couldn't find it." He waved his hand around the room. "And I thought the room of love would be more interesting."

The cup in Harry's hand vanished as Desire reached for it. "Wizards think they can study love but it doesn't work that way. Give and take, bend and break. The power of love has only as much as you give it. The door in here is always locked so they don't have to admit to themselves they do not understand it at all." Desire's tone became contemptuous as she eyed the books in the room. "There are no words that can capture the feeling."

Harry shuffled on his feet. "What am I going to do about the last Horcrux?"

Desire looked at him, its face imperceptible to read. "You know there is a way to find out." Painted fingertips brushed along the scar on Harry's forehead. "The answer is inside of you."

"I don't know…" Harry didn't like the idea of trying to dig out information out of the Dark Lord's head. He didn't even know if it would be successful.

Desire shrugged. "It's up to you. You wouldn't even have to search very hard. You know the snake is supposed to be a trap."

Harry hesitated. "Okay, but I won't be able to bring the snake to you. He'll know where I am immediately."

"Don't worry about it." Desire raised the cup in its hand, the light of the room shining against it. "I prefer to have them all, but I have enough bits and pieces of Voldemort's soul to have him trapped in my realm for all of eternity. He'll beg me to have them back."

Harry's face crumpled in confusion. "I wanted to get rid of the Horcruxes to defeat The Dark Lord. It defeats the point of giving you the Horcurxes if he stays immortal."

Desire smiled. "I know you, Harry and I don't think you want to kill him at all." It leaned forward to press a dry kiss on his cheek. "Good luck," it whispered and then disappeared.

* * *

_Mafalda raised her hand.. "I was only tasting the candy," she muttered as she showed off the sticky residue left from the candy._

_The beast growled. "Those were my children!"_

_Mafalda gasped and looked at the forest trees again. And now she could see that they weren't lollipops at all. The beast's offspring were _

_encased in the sweet material. She had been licking the cherry flavored blood from the corpses of fierce imagination._

_

* * *

_

Harry looked at the spot where Desire had vanished in concern. He really ought to have known that there were ulterior motives fueling its decision to aid him. Still, there was a truth to Desire's words that was difficult to admit. He didn't want to kill the Dark Lord.

He wanted revenge. Killing was an excellent choice in most circumstances. It would end the fear and his friends wouldn't be entrenched in a pointless war anymore. Tom Riddle sought immortality and taking it away was pretty much the best option.

But that wasn't quite what Harry wanted. Because when Harry thought of Tom Riddle, it always carried a certain amount of shame. This was feeling was renewed when Harry used the Penseive in order to make the replica of the Hufflepuff Cup. Dumbledore had seen a student was ripe by greed and ruthlessness at a young age. Slughorn had seen a bright student and was willing to overlook the flaws in order to maintain an image. Harry saw a distorted reflection of himself, full of potential and a great deal more promise. A reflection that made a long list of would have, could have, should have, sentences filled his mind.

_Could I have been just as ruthless?_

_How much am I really like him?_

_How much better would my life been if it weren't for the Dark Lord?_

That last question had been in his head every since he found out about that Halloween night. It had festered for years. And finding out how much his fate was entwined with the Dark Lord only served to make him bitter. He didn't want the Dark Lord to die.

He wanted him to suffer.

Harry Potter wasn't a brave person, but he was a selfish one.

He crouched down on the floor and crossed his legs. For the first time in months, Harry slid down his Occlumency shields and exploited the connection they shared. The difference was immediately apparent. Perhaps someone less in tune with the intricacies of life, death, and magic would fail to notice the connection. There was a yet another force pulling at Harry different from the eddy of magic deep inside of him, different from the beating of his heart from Desire. This was centered at his scar, and it hurt.

He wondered if the Dark Lord knew how closely they were tied together. It wouldn't take much for Harry to dip inside the Dark Lord's mind, to find out if he was hungry, of what he was doing at that moment. He was there, hovering along the edges of the enemy's mind.

He was pacing in a circle, the stone steps underneath his feet were echoing with every step. "And there have been no other rumors?"

"No." The wandmaker shuddered on the cold, stone floor, his luminous eyes gone dull and weak. "No one has heard anything else since Gregorvitch."

Voldemort felt a spark of irritation. Potter's whereabouts had not yet been discovered, despite the large bounty on his head. He thought that the price alone would be enough for one of his little friends to give him up. It was a hefty sum, but to no avail. How disappointing.

However, Nagini was still waiting at the forest outside of Godric's Hollow for Potter. And one day he would show up. There was no way the boy's curiosity could dismiss Dumbledore's message at Godric's Hollow and it was remarkable that he had not appeared yet.

Harry withdrew to his own mind in shock.

* * *

_The creature roared and began to chase after Mafalda. She gasped and ran away with difficulty, _

_her feet resisting due to the sweet remains of the beast's offspring. She saw a crooked path in front of her that led to a home. _

_Relieved that the lights were on, she stopped in front of the door and began pounding on it._

"_Let me in!"

* * *

_

Harry stood up from the floor and made his way out of the room of love. His eyes widened when he stepped into the atrium and noticed the people had risen, their eyes distant and unseeing. They were slowly shuffling to the exits, occasionally bumping into objects and other people. The Ministry employees were beginning to wake up, but not yet aware of their actions. Harry waved his wand at several of the wooden doors and they began to burn as flames crawled up. He set down several of the pre-made Weasley contraptions on the floor and set the timer. His task complete, he ran to the staircase and made his way through the zombiefied workers.

"Harry!" Blaise yelled at him as he waved his wand in an effort the bat away the sluggish Ministry workers. "What the hell is going on!"

"Leave them alone, Blaise. They won't hurt you. Have you finished your task?"

"Yeah, I managed to destroy the Floo Department. But I want to know what's going on with the people."

Harry removed the coin from his pocket and tapped it. It was time to leave. "The sleeping powder has worn off. They people just don't know it yet. Let's go."

Blaise frowned as he followed Harry up the stairs as they navigated around one of the sleep-walking members of the Ministry. "I really hate you," he said as he tripped over the still form off a still sleeping Death Eater.

"Liar," replied Harry as he helped Blaise up. The entered the atrium were to see the sleepwalkers exiting the Ministry using the passage that would take them by the street in London, unaware of their own actions. He saw Susan out of the corner of his eye and found his friends looking at the zombie army.

"Will they be okay?" Lavender was staring at them in horror.

"Yeah, they should be waking up any second now." He said nothing about the loyal members of the Dark Lord who were still sleeping on the floors below. "Listen, I need to go somewhere to take care of something."

"You found out about the message Dumbledore left, didn't you?" Daphne asked as she caught on to Harry's tone. "I was wondering how long it would take you to find out about it. I'll go with you."

"I'm not even that interested in the message," said Harry truthfully. He resisted the urge to throttle her for keeping it secret from him. "You don't need to worry about it."

"We can't leave you by yourself!" Daphne protested. "Who knows what sort of mess you'll get yourself into without one of us to watch your back."

Harry gave a wry smile. She had no idea how many solo projects he had already participated in. "It's fine Daphne."

The zombie army had begun to yell terribly with shrieks of anger, rage and fear. "The dream is wrapping up. Go!" He heard a loud boom as the pre-made explosives went off. In a few minutes this building would nothing more than ash.

A hand reached forward to grab his arm. "Harry, you don't need to go."

Harry shook his arm out of Ron's grasp and shook his head. "No, this can only be done by me." The others had left already left and the noise of their Apparating was still echoing in the lobby.

Ron's face fell in disappointment but he tried to make one last plea. "There are other people out there who can do that. I don't know why you feel like you have to be at the center of everything."

Harry frowned as he looked at Ron. It was such a strange place to be having this conversation, surrounded by the fallen unconscious bodies of Death Eaters, approaching flames and zombie workers. And there he was, having a sobering conversation with Ron, the boy who had been Harry's first friend.

Ron was his first real friend who was not an acquaintance or an anthromorphic personification of forces unknown. Ron who was absolutely nothing like him, with his large family, his contentious nature, and easy-going attitude. A person who Harry would loathe to become, and yet envied for the normalcy and humanity he exuded.

"Actually, there is no one else," Harry responded with bitterness. "Take care," he said, as he Apparated away.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

"_Please help me!" Mafalda heard a giggle and looked up at the rooftop to see a young girl sitting on the roof. "Can you let me in?" She looked behind her and saw the beast running her direction and begged to the girl. "Help me!"_

"_No, I can't help you" the girl said as she tugged on a single lock of purple hair. "No one is home."_

"_But the lights are on!" Mafalda begged as she tugged at the door handle once more. "Let me in!" she yelled._

_The girl laughed once more. "Silly, Silly, don't you know. It's your house."_

_Mafalda gasped as the girl disappeared. The truth sunk into her brain and she gave the door another push._

And Mafalda was standing outside on a wet London street.

8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry Apparated into Godric's Hollow and ran down the streets to search for the message that Dumbledore had left him. He was irritated that this news had not yet reached him. Snape had known about it before Harry had visited Hogwarts. But Harry had left current events to other people. The first broadcast of Fred and George's program had left him irritated and distracted. Harry had chosen to ignore most of the current news for the sake of his own tenuous sanity.

He didn't even know Godric's Hollow very well. But as he rounded another street he recognized some of his surroundings and took a left at the green house at the corner. He stopped when he recognized the statue of his parents and a small baby that was supposed to be him. Harry saw his old home in the distance and approached.

At the front of the property there was a sign that detailed the historic nature of the crumbling home. Harry reached for a small cardboard note and it shook open at his touch. Dumbledore's handwriting was near the top.

_Antioch, Cadmus, and Ignotus_

Harry sucked in a breath as he recognized the names of the three Peverell brothers. Dumbledore had directed him to the story of the Three Brothers and the Deathly Hallows. Does this mean he intended for Harry to be the recipient of all three? Or did it mean he should seek the grave of Ignotus Peverell? Harry looked at his surroundings but did not see the snake. Sighing, he made his way over to the graveyard. All of these dead ends were growing frustrating. Discovering secrets used to be so simple.

Harry missed being right all of time.

He hadn't reached the gravestone of Ignotus when he was attacked by Nagini. The large snake was surprisingly fast and was quickly wrapping itself around him. It hadn't bitten him yet though and Harry struggled to free himself. Out of panic, Harry attempted to Apparate into the nearby forest.

The attempt was partially successful. Nagini was no longer wrapped body, but he had also managed to splinch himself. There was a large gouge of flesh of his arm and the fingernail on his little finger was missing. Harry wrapped his handkerchief around his arm as he searched for the snake. It couldn't be too far from here.

Suddenly, a horrible sensation filled his body, a spinning well of power in his stomach that caused him to collapse to the ground. He gasped as he flipped onto his back to look at the sky and the leaves of autumn that fell from the trees. The fallen leaves crunched underneath him as he struggled to breathe against the power in him. For a brief second he could see his future played out before him. He could leave the snake alone and try to capture it at another time. The Dark Lord would know of his attempt and shield the final Horcrux from harm until the bitter end. Or he could walk into the forest, a place of certain death.

The power was beginning to recede and Harry sat up and brushed the leaves that clung to his hair. He stood and looked at his wand, the wand of holly that had chosen him in Ollivader's six years ago.

And then Harry ran deeper into the forest.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Mafalda sighed as she sat down at her kitchen table. The Ministry had been burned to the ground and even though she had not discussed it with her co-workers, she knew it was the end of the government for a while. It was rumored that some people were still trapped inside the burning building. Everything would have to be started from scratch and her loyalty to the government meant nothing now. It was the perfect time to leave, if she wanted.

Of course, she would have to ask Robert before she left, but she knew he had been dissatisfied of late. There was a cousin in Poland that she was fond of, perhaps she could visit there. There weren't any records that could tie her to the country anymore. She might be able to make a clean break.

She reached into a jar and withdrew a sweet. She popped in her mouth, and tasted the all too familiar taste of cherries. The taste soured in her mouth, and she spat the candy out into the sink. But the flavor was still there, lingering in her mouth. The taste of cherries was the cloying flavor of dead memories and a maimed childhood.

She began to cry and was unable to stop.

Robert Hopkirk arrived home an hour later to find his wife delirious, huddled on the floor in a pool of her own vomit.

* * *

**A/N: **Yeah, the story is definitely winding down. Only five chapters left... :O

**Next Chapter**: Eclipse


	56. Ch 52 Eclipse

**Chapter Fifty-Two**

**Eclipse**

_**All Bette's stories have happy endings. That's because she knows where to stop. She's realized the real problem with stories -- if you keep them going long enough, they always end in death.**_

_From Preludes and Nocturnes

* * *

_

Matthew the Raven soared through the skies of muggy Texas as he searched for a school stadium. He wanted to get back to the Dreaming because the humidity in Texas was really getting to him. He did not understand why the Boss asked him to fly somewhere so far away. The Boss could have deposited him in the exact spot he needed to be, if he wanted to. But when Lord Morpheus gave an order, Matthew had no choice but to follow it. Even if it meant he had to fly across the Atlantic Ocean.

Matthew perched on one of the school bleachers as he watched the crowd of parents and students exit the school game. One of the last people to leave the field was a young man with blond hair. He wore denim and there was a smudge of paint across his cheek that looked like an eagle, the school's mascot. The man looked like he belonged at the game as much as anybody. Matthew was a bit hesitant to approach him, but it had to be done. When Prez made his way across the parking lot, Matthew swooped down to cut him off.

"Prez Rickard?" he cawed. Matthew was rather proud of his caw, how professional it was considering he had never was as a human. Prez paused to look at him. That was a very good sign to Matthew because some people didn't appreciate talking birds. The last time he had delivered a message from Lord Morpheus he had been chased around by a lady with a broomstick.

"Yes?"

"I have a message from Lord Morpheus." Matthew paused as he waited for a sign of recognition, a nod, or gasp, or on of those long rambling poems that he could only half understand. But the young man did nothing. "Oh boy. You don't know who he is."

Prez shook his head. "I have met a few lords, but not the one you speak of."

"He's pretty unforgettable." Matthew shook his wings. "Actually, it depends who you talk to. Your average everyday human forgets about him pretty easily. You would know about him if you saw him though. Tall, dark, and solemn. Mmm… He said you gave him a watch."

Recognition dawned on Prez's face. "Yeah, I know who he is."

"He wants you to do him a favor." Matthew outstretched his leg so the young man could remove the piece of paper that was tied on it.

Prez hesitated. "I don't know. I try not to be involved in things that are beyond me. Your leader seems like one of _those_ people." He made an unhappy face, as if recalling something unpleasant.

Matthew bobbed his head in understanding. "Yeah, you're right about that. But the thing you need to know about Lord Morpheus is that he can be very difficult. Don't get me wrong, I like the guy. On certain days, I would even say he's my friend. But he doesn't do well talking with people and that's why he's asking for your help. There's a seventeen-year-old who is involved in very deep things right now and Lord Morpheus thought you might want to give him some advice." He cocked his head as he spoke, hoping give a sly look. It was hard to be sly as a raven. "Besides, Lord Morpheus understands people pretty well. I don't think he would have requested something that you would have trouble with."

Prez reached for the slip of paper and unfurled the tiny note. "He wants me to fix a clock," he said in confusion.

"Oh, I guess I was wrong. Are you going to do it?"

Prez tucked the slip of paper in his pocket and picked up the large duffle bag at his feet. "Yeah, I'll do it."

"It was nice talking to you, Prez." Matthew took off to the sky once more, leaving Texas behind and vanishing into the Dreaming.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry ran deeper into the forest, his feet squelching against the mud and leaves. His search for Nagini had been unsuccessful so far. He was sore, tired, and the pain on his arm from his splinching accident was growing. A part of him wondered if these were signs that he should give up. It would be so much more enjoyable for him to just leave.

But the Horcrux had to be destroyed and his only plan was to find it. Perhaps he was a little desperate and pathetic, but it couldn't be helped. Harry couldn't see the future and couldn't feel it shape or break like he used to. He only knew that even if he could get rid of Nagini, he still had the bit inside of him.

He was walking right into Death's arms, but he didn't know what else to do. Harry rounded a large tree and smacked right into a man.

The man swore angrily. "You need to watch where you are going."

Harry hastily stood up, wondering how he failed to notice the man standing behind the tree. "Sorry. Listen, you need to leave."

"I beg your pardon?" The man was brushing leaves off of his jacket.

"There's a snake around here, a really big one." Harry raised his arms in approximation. "It was chasing me and I don't know where it is now."

"Is something the matter, Steven?"

Harry looked up to see the man's wife and two children who were in the forest. There was a boy of about twelve and a girl about five. The boy was sitting on a log with a video game in his hands and the girl was sitting on the ground. There was a stuffed bear by her feet. The beating of Harry's heart became faster and he turned back to the father. "You need tot get out of here!

Steven turned to his wife. "He says there is a giant snake around here." The man's exasperation and disbelief was unmistakable.

"Cool," said the boy as he stuffed the video game in his pocket and made his way over to Harry. The girl reached for the small stuffed bear and clutched in her arms.

"It's not." Harry frowned as he looked at the boy. "Shouldn't you be in school?"

"It was blown up a couple of weeks ago," the boy said with a shrug. "There was a gas explosion so we're on vacation."

Harry shook his head in disbelief. The Death Eaters had caused more than their fair share of violence in the past few weeks. Even the monotonous life of Muggle school was interrupted. He was about to say something when he heard the familiar pop of someone Apparating. A killing cursed barely missed Harry as he turned and hit a nearby tree. The bark exploded off the trunk, sending wood debris into the air and causing the wife to scream.

"Run!" screamed Harry as the tree began to groan and collapse to the ground. The father scurried to pick up his daughter and they took off deeper into the forest.

They passed a few trees and Harry faltered when he saw Voldemort appeared in front of them. There was no warning, only the silent gloom of his shadow and Nagini, who was on his shoulders. There wasn't even enough time for Harry to separate himself from the family. The Dark Lord removed the snake from his shoulders and placed it on the ground. Naigini was still alive, but Harry could see a large chunk of white flesh had been torn out of it. He clenched the wound on his arm. He wasn't the only one injured in his failed Apparition.

"Harry Potter," the Dark Lord hissed. He looked even more terrifying than Harry recalled. "We finally meet once again."

Harry hissed in annoyance. The Dark Lord was going to make conversation with him. Any signs of Harry's attitude would get him into trouble before he had an opportunity to kill the snake. This was going to be difficult.

"Please, I don't know what's going on, but let us go. We aren't involved in this."

Harry winced as the father spoke. He may not have known who was in front of him, but there was little kindness in the Dark Lord's appearance. Unfortunately, the father was also drawing unnecessary attention to his family.

"Do you want to leave?" The Dark Lord's voice said with amusement. It was the sort of tone Harry believed the devil himself would use as he plied you with complimentary drinks. A convincing one that oozed of sincerity and generosity until the truth was revealed.

Much to Harry's displeasure, the man's face lit up with relief.

"I think we all want to live," said Harry as he stepped forward. He was watching Nagini as she slithered to the girl hiding behind the tree. When he look behind the Dark Lord, he discovered a new visitor the occasion. Death was waiting for the inevitable.

The Dark Lord laughed. "Ah… playing the hero, it seems." He waved his wand lazily between his fingertips. "Unfortunately, Potter, there will be no distractions here to save you." The pain in Harry's forehead was all the warning he needed; the jet of green hadn't left the wand before Harry was on the move.

The mother screamed and Harry heard a soft thump as the boy fell to the ground. The mother gave a shriek of horror and knelt down to check on her son. Harry had made his way further back and closer to the daughter who was hiding behind a tree.

"What have you done to my son?!"

"Sophie, stay back!" The husband tried to prevent his wife from running forward, but it was a failed effort. She ran towards the Dark Lord in rage and Harry watched them as they fell dead.

"Or perhaps not a hero after all." The Dark Lord said studied Harry who was crouched behind a tree trunk. "You have been quite the interesting conundrum, Potter. Sometimes I think I understand you as well as myself and at other times…" He stepped over the bodies of the parents.

Harry swallowed with difficulty as the echoes of the mother's voice rang in his head. He tried to ignore the crouching figure of Death behind the Dark Lord and the omnipresent sound of wings. His heart was thumping loudly in his chest and he had a headache and felt more than a little nauseous. He wasn't used to death being so visceral. His need for secrecy required a situation were his victims incapable of fighting back. The mother's cries had made the situation a little more _human_ than he was used to. As a result, he found it very difficult to think of gentle Death. Shaking his head, he turned his attention to the girl hiding behind a tree.

Harry saw that Nagini was in range to attack the child and he hurriedly sent a slicing curse in its direction. But his timing was a little off, Nagini managed to bite the child before the spell connected. The girl's cries were muffled since she had stuck a paw of her stuffed bear in her mouth. The snake split in half, splattering blood on the fallen leaves and on the girl.

There was a terrible shriek of rage from the Dark Lord.

Harry darted to the girl but stumbled as a coil of rope flung around his legs. It sent him tumbling to the ground and he landed heavily next to the girl. "Don't be scared," Harry said aloud as he reached for her hand, although he was not entirely clear if he was speaking to the girl or himself.

"You killed Nagini," the Dark Lord hissed as made his way over to Harry

"You killed my parents," Harry retorted without enthusiasm as the trembling girl gasped. There was an awful lot of blood coming out of her. She scooted closer to him, crying in pain.

He was backed into a corner and he hated it. His knowledge of the Endless, the Elder Wand, the knowledge of the Deathly Hallows and so forth were just random bits of trivia. There must have been a conspiracy against him by the ineffable hand of fate or god or because he felt **_wrong._**

There had to be something wrong with him, that he had to use a five-year-old as bait.

"I hate you," Harry said to Voldemort as the girl's hold slackened.

He looked down at the dead girl again and didn't see Voldemort raise his wand, or the curse that left his lips. But he did feel the pain of the Cruciatus Curse as it landed upon him.

Harry didn't know how long he screamed. It could have been hours, seconds, or years. But when the spell was lifted, he could barely move and effort of breathing was agony in itself.

He shuddered and the uncontrolled movement caused his head to tilt in the girl's direction. Harry felt a fierce tug of bitterness. He couldn't save himself, much less the girl.

_What hope was there for the world?_

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The girl named Olivia gasped in relief when the pain went away. The squeezing her chest lifted. When she opened her eyes she saw a pretty woman kneeling on the ground.

"Hello, Olivia."

"Hi," she whispered as she scooted away and curled up into a ball. Her hand was still clutching the stuffed bear.

The woman made herself comfortable as she crossed her legs to sit on the ground. "Do you know who I am?"

The girl hesitated before she shook her head timidly.

"I'm here to take you back to your mother and father. Simon is waiting for you too, on the other side." Death took care not to frighten her. "So are you ready to go?" She held out her hand.

Olivia shuffled to her feet but made no motion for the outstretched hand. "But what about him?" She looked in the direction of Harry who was gasping in pain.

"Don't worry about Harry, he has a few more things to take care of before the big finale." Death reached into her pocket. She withdrew a few items, a ball of yarn, a feathered hat, and a purple striped tie. The tie shrunk in her hands as she held it out. "May I?" She asked as she indicated at the bear in Olivia's arms.

Olivia held out the bear to Death, who slipped the premade loop over the bear's head and tightened it around its neck. "He looks rather sharp with it on," said Death as fussed over her toy.

Olivia cast one last look at Harry Potter and she reached out for Death's hand.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry sat up slowly to look at the Dark Lord who was looming before him in triumph.

The Dark Lord caressed the wand in his fingertips. "I thought that I would have to gain the Elder Wand in order to defeat you Potter, due to our unfortunate connection. But it appears that you cannot resist your own curiosity." The scar on Harry's heart gave a gentle throb.

Harry painted a confused expression on his face and said nothing of the Elder Wand. He was startled that the Dark Lord was searching for the legendary object. The wand was the only Deathly Hallow that had proof of existence through the famous battles of powerful wizards in the past. It was entirely possible that the Dark Lord did not know it was an object in a set of three, and of them, it was the least loyal.

Harry's palm itched something fierce with the urge to reach into his pocket and draw his wand. He had the urge to gloat that he already had the wand and had stolen it from the corpse of Dumbledore. He wanted to raise the Resurrection Stone that hung around his neck and see the reaction of the Dark Lord's face when he found out his Horcruxes were destroyed. But it was no use. Even if Harry reached into his expanded pocket there was no wand to find, for he had given the Elder Wand to Draco.

It had been hard parting with it since the wand had been so useful in defeating Bellatrix, wrapping her in tempestuous flames she could not win against. However Draco needed something worthy to deposit in Gringotts so the Horcrux could be switched with a copy without drawing suspicion. Harry didn't trust Draco or his Occlumency skills completely, and gave him Dumbledore's wand as a seemingly sentimental object. If the Dark Lord questioned Draco on the matter, there needed to be some valid excuse. The Dark Lord would be able to understand the urge to keep trophies.

Time and history told the fates of those who had claimed the Elder Wand by murder. The most powerful wand of all only served the best and would change loyalties to the still living. Harry had followed in that dubious tradition when he killed the Headmaster, although it looked as if Dumbledore had been planning a different path for Harry to go down. But since Harry's life was tied to the life of the Horcrux, it was necessary that Harry die by Voldemort's hand. And yet, if he died, the Elder Wand would switch loyalties to the Dark Lord.

By giving the wand to Draco, he had given up some of the ties of magic and the Dark Lord would not be able to claim it for himself. It was little comfort, but Harry took what he could. He had regretted it at the time, but now Harry was somewhat relieved.

And there was no point in gloating to the Dark Lord, it would only make his experience more miserable. It would be more difficult to defeat the Dark Lord if he believed he was mortal once more. Harry's nerves were weak and useless and he was tired.

He was tired of running and trying to be something he wasn't and he was tired of being good and he was tired of the future and his past. He was tired of trying to control things he couldn't understand and he was tired of these damn games and he was tired of fighting his destiny.

He was ready for Her.

The Dark Lord raised his yew wand with a triumphant smile on his lips and Harry wondered if the time had come. His eyes swept across the darkened forest searching for that familiar figure with a dark hair and a haunting gaze.

_"Aveda-"_

Harry panicked. _Where was she?_

_"-Kedavra"_

And the last thought in Harry's mind was of her smile.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Destiny walks in his garden maze. He pauses as the path branches off into separate directions, uncertain of where to proceed.

Death is in a hospital in Egypt. One more has fallen to cancer.

Dream watches the rain fall from inside his castle. He hears Merv Pumpkinhead curse as he enters from the storm. The train station is finally complete.

A man once named Destruction begins to put up his tools. Another day at the construction site has ended. Time proceeds and things change.

Despair watches the mirrors in her realm, as an army of teenagers look out of their small cave for someone who will not return to them. Their hearts grow weary.

Desire swears as Harry's heart fades away. But then she looks at the Horcruxes sitting on her table and smiles.

Delirium floats at the bottom of a large pool of amber liquid. Eight bubbles pop out of her lips and rise to the surface. Harry is coming to her.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

The Dark Lord shuddered awake on a bed of fallen leaves. He climbed to his feet with tension, his wand outstretched to attack anyone in front of him. He did not recall falling asleep. And it had been late afternoon when he arrived at the forest, but now it was dark. The last thing he could remember was the anticipation of cursing Potter, of finally snuffing the life of that miserable boy. No, that wasn't quite right. He recalled something else, the haunting taste of desire in his veins, and the fear that squeezed at his heart.

But that was only a dream, nothing more.

Voldemort frowned in displeasure and then dismissed the thought. He had merely fallen asleep, that was all. He burned the remains of Nagini's form away with irritation and approached the boy's still form with unease. Things never went according to plan when Potter was involved. He removed his wand and jabbed a spell in the body's direction. The spell slashed across his midsection. Voldemort watched the dark blood ooze out on the forest floor in the growing light. The body did not react, staying motionless. He felt a wave of relief.

However, Voldemort could see in the dim light that Potter's eyes were still open. There was a smug attitude in that gaze, even in that lifeless form. It was as if Potter was looking at something beyond Voldemort and it was this unsettling thought that gave him pause. He had anticipated the day he would be able to drag the boy's body in front of his Death Eaters and display it for them to see. Voldemort did not want anyone to question of his power, of his right, to control. But the events of his unconsciousness left him uneasy. Perhaps it would be best if he never spoke of it.

_Yes, that would do, _he thought. It would be better to let his enemies wonder of Potter's whereabouts. If he admitted Potter's death now, they might use the boy as a symbol, another martyr for their ridiculous cause. Voldemort would let them speculate, and let their hope dwindle slowly into nothingness. And then one day he would admit the truth and crush the last of the hope.

Pleased, Voldemort waved his wand at the ground. A large section of earth was removed to create a pit and he flicked the dead bodies inside. He heard the crack of bone when the father's body tumbled in the hole first. The mother followed, then the son, and then the girl who was covered in blood. At the top of the heap was Potter, whose eyes were still open with that slightly knowing expression. Voldemort took great pleasure watching his face disappear underneath a pile of soil.

When he was finished, there was nothing to indicate that he had been there at all. Voldemort took down the Anti-Apparition wards that had encased the area. It was a new day.

He left the forest as the rising sun shone its first rays, leaving nature to continue its course.

In the ground, four bodies began to decay.

* * *

**A/N:** R.I.P Harry Potter.

Or not :D

**Next Chapter:** Great Gig in the Sky


	57. Ch 53 Great Gig in the Sky

**Chapter Fifty-Three**

**Great Gig in the Sky**

_**This will be felt across worlds and days as a reality storm; and, as it plays its course, conflicting realities will fall and spin and shatter across time and existence.**_

Destiny in _The Kindly Ones

* * *

_

Vernon Dursley scowled as he entered the airport. He was never fond of travel. Time delays were bad enough, and then there were all the freaks he had to deal with. But that was one of the pains of his new position at Grunnings. If he had his druthers, he would be sitting at his home and watching the news after another on of Petunia's excellent meals. And by home, he meant Number Four Privet Drive, not the temporary shack in New York.

Vernon ground his teeth as he thought of that blasted boy once more. A large part of him was still rankled by Potter's arrogance and smug attitude. That mooch did not have any knowledge of the real world. He was just a boy and a freaky one at that. He had no idea the amount of time and effort it took to own a home like Number Four. Potter's world was full of nonsense, so of course it had been so easy for the boy to suggest kicking them out of Number Four. Vernon thought Potter's suggestion was a scam and the only reason he even took the offer because of Dudley and Petunia. They both insisted he should listen to the boy's tale, so Vernon relented. He would never be a poor provider to his family.

He made his way through the airport and finally found the terminal for his departure back to England. He looked at his watch and felt his irritation rise. There was still another hour before his scheduled departure. This was going to be a long journey. He gave a furtive glance at the bag that was in his hand. He had picked up a few magazines for that he knew Petunia wouldn't have approved of. But she didn't have to know about it.

He sat in a seat as he waited for the time to pass. A woman and her child were sitting across from him. The little boy was talking to his mother, his thin voice grating on Vernon's nerves. It was bad enough that he couldn't understand the words the boy was saying, but the brat wouldn't shut up either.

How he despised the long journey between continents.

There was great relief when his flight was announced and Vernon was able to board the plane. Grunnings had paid for a good seat that would allow him to relax once he was on board. Even better, the mother and the chatterbox were still waiting for their flight. Hopefully, the person in the seat next to him would be the sensible type. He settled himself in the seat with a grunt, and reached inside his bag. Vernon pulled out one of the magazines, running his fingers over the plastic and smiling as he caught a glimpse of the pouty-lipped woman on the cover. Out of the corner of is eye, he caught sight of a pair of slim legs. His eyes trailed up, catching sight of a short skirt, a revealing shirt.

"Excuse me," said a female voice waspishly, "But that's my seat next to you."

Vernon's eyes looked up guiltily from her chest to her face. She was exactly the type of girl that he had warned Dudley about, the kind who flashed skin and was nothing but trouble. Her hair was dyed a bright red and streaks of blonde. It tied back in a pair of ribbons that gave her a young look. She couldn't have been more than twenty.

As she passed his seat and the smell of her perfume hit Vernon's nose. He rubbed at his moustache, hoping to eliminate the scent from his head. He put up the glossy magazine in his hand; he wasn't going to open it up with _her_ sitting next to him.

He glanced at his watch again. The flight attendant passed and he pointed at his watch. "Tell the pilot to hurry up, it's time." The stewardess nodded stiffly and made her way down the aisle.

Vernon relaxed in his seat, pointedly ignoring the girl next to him. He didn't like sitting next to her, what with her hair, her smell, and her tight clothes, and her too young age. Vernon Dursley did not like the feeling of trouble he sensed from her. Then again, he would never admit that to anyone.

It was a great relief to Vernon when the plane took off the runway and into the skies. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Vernon opened his eyes to glare at the girl who was poking at his shoulder. His neck felt stiff from the awkward angle that he had been dozing in.

"Could you stop it?" The girl was holding at her ear as she spoke.

He rubbed at the back of his neck. "Stop what?" He took a drink of the water that had been placed in front of him while he had been sleeping

"Stop your snoring." She waved the book in her hands. "Some of us can't even think with those grunts of yours." She flopped back into her chair and opened her novel once more.

Vernon frowned and tried to make himself comfortable again. Much to his disappointment, she asked him another question before it could happen. "Have you ever read this book? It's really weird."

He looked at the cover. It was called _Here Comes a Candle_ by Erasmus Fry. "Looks like rubbish."

She ignored his response and continued to talk. "It's a story about this guy who draws inspiration from a woman he has locked in his house. It was popular when it came out in the fifties. But the freakish thing is that was a true story. A jealous author with a writer's block broke into Fry's house to steal some story ideas. When he made his way to the attic a woman locked in there. The police said she had been living there for years."

Vernon felt uncomfortable and strove to change the subject. "I don't believe in that nonsense. Writers should have real jobs and quite making up useless lies." He wished it was a bit warmer in the plane, he could clearly see the effect the cold was having on her body.

His words seemed to have hit a sore spot since the girl turned away from him. He leaned back to doze once more when the plane gave a very pronounced shudder.

"Attention passengers, this is your pilot speaking. There is a storm front approaching. We are raising our altitude a little bit so we can fly above it. The turbulence should be minimal."

The plane rose. Vernon grunted as the pressure built in his head.

There was another shudder and then everything went black.

The plane began to squeal loudly and the emergency lights flickered on. Vernon knew the plane was going down as he tightened his gripe the plane seat. The rest of the experience was a blur. He remembered reaching for the in-case-of-emergency oxygen mask, grasping the sick bag and the darkness. He also remembered that feeling from deep down in his gut, the unshakable truth that this was Potter's entire fault.

And then he was exiting the emergency door and plunging down the inflatable ramp to the soft, wet earth. The wing of the plan had shattered, leaving the plane crooked on the field. Vernon looked up at the door above him, expecting to see another passenger emerge. None came.

"Hello?" he called out.

"Who's there?" replied a voice. Vernon's stomach recoiled when he recognized it belonging to the girl. She appeared from the other side of the plane and frowned in disappointment. "Oh it's you. It figures that the only man left standing is the pervert."

Vernon felt his face turn red. "I am not a…you're just a girl. Your mother should never have let you come on this flight alone and you shouldn't accuse people of things."

She sneered at him. "Don't talk that way about my mother, you don't even know her. As for accusations, I saw you staring at my chest. Pervert."

"There are other people on the plane," he responded loudly. "Why are they so slow to come down?"

"Maybe they're dead," she mused. "I didn't actually look at them before I got off."

Vernon looked at her with fear; he hadn't looked at anyone else either. "Then why are we fine?" He didn't have any injuries and neither did she.

She shrugged. "I don't know. What I do know is that I saw a few lights in that direction when I was coming down the ramp." She pointed off into the woods. "I was looking in that direction and it doesn't look like they are too far off. We need to go get help." The girl began a determined march away from the plane

Vernon huffed after her. "You can't go in there. Who knows what kind of things are in the forest?"

The girl's cheeks puffed in defiance. "I am not going to allow a plane full of people in need of help sit there when I know there's civilization nearby. If you want to stay over there, it's fine with me." She turned around to point behind him and then began to curse loudly.

"Weird shit. Even on my way _to _England I can't get a fuckin' break." The girl wasn't talking to Vernon anymore, and instead was trying to console herself with crazy talk.

Vernon wrinkled his nose. _Americans._

The girl saw his reaction and glared. "Don't give me that look. Turn around and see for yourself."

Vernon turned around and swore. The plane had disappeared.

"Who are you?" The girl demanded. "Are you some sort of anthropomorphic personification? A god? The ghost of a mail carrier?"

"What?" He knew there was something strange about the girl the moment he spotted her.

"Well, I know I'm not causing all of this stuff to happen so that means everything must be your fault." She gave him an aggressive poke in the chest.

"I am perfectly normal," Vernon said with indignation as he retreated to a safer distance away from the smell of her and away from the large empty space where the plane had been.

"Yeah, I noticed," she sassed back. "You are perfectly boring with your suit and tie. You have the perfectly boring look of a man going on a business trip. I bet you have a son that makes you proud and a dutiful wife who waits hand and foot on you. It's kinda suspicious if you ask me. Everyone has some sort of secret that they are hiding. Everyone normal, that is," she ended in a smug tone.

Vernon felt the sweat break out on his neck. "What about you? What type of parents sends their child alone to another country?"

"I am not a child. I'm twenty-five for chrissakes. Why does everyone think I'm sixteen?" She threw up her hands in frustration and marched further into the forest. Vernon followed her with the slight worry that she too, might vanish into nothingness.

It wasn't long before saw the lights the girl mentioned and he gave a sigh of relief. But his enthusiasm dimmed when he saw a proper view of his refuge. It was an enormous building set on the edge of a cliff. There was a train station near by as well as a helipad. The cliff led down to an enormous ocean and there were several large ships moored nearby.

There was also a space ship.

"Weird shit," the girl repeated with venom.

"Do we have to go in?" Vernon eyed the building with unease. The building looked old, as if it had been standing there for a long time and that was somewhat comforting. But everything around it was inexplicable.

"Do we have anywhere else to go? I'm Rose Walker, by the way."

"Vernon Dursley," he replied monotonously as they made their way to the entrance.

Rose stepped forward and knocked on the door. Vernon was more than ready to let her take the lead.

A woman answered the door and Vernon felt comforted by her image. She was dressed a bit strangely, but she looked completely unsurprised to see them there. "Welcome travelers to the World's End."

"Is that supposed to be some sort of clever joke?" asked Rose as she held out her hands to her hips.

"Not at all," replied the woman as she ushered them inside. "This inn is a place of harbor for those caught in the storm. We are busy tonight, but you are most welcome to stay here until it passes."

Vernon grunted. "We don't have much money so don't try to swindle us."

The woman smiled. "Currency varies between times and places. It would be unwise for me to seek payment that is so fickle. We use something more stable here at the World's End Inn and it is payment that you will find yourself all too ready to give."

Vernon bristled at her non-answer. The comfort he felt when he first saw her diminished as he looked around his surroundings. People were dressed in all sorts of fashions and everyone looked so different. There was no telling what sorts of people were here. Vernon would have opted for a small corner to himself but this place seemed absent of them. The building was round and encompassing, and filled with all sorts of strangers. His eyes were quick to dart over the presence of non-humans, unseeing of the centaur, the pixy, the giant that was sleeping in the back. They registered as nothing more than a part of the wall in Vernon Dursley's head.

"Now see here, I am more than happy that you have helped us out, but I won't take too kindly if you try any funny business. What kind of payment?"

The woman looked at him in an odd fashion, her eyes unblinking as she observed him. "A story."

He saw Rose ease from the corner of his eye, but he pressed on. "And how does that constitute payment? Stories don't pay the bills." He thumped his hand against the wall and heard the comforting sound of a solid structure.

She led the two of them around busy tables and closer to the bar. "There is power in shared experiences, learned lessons, morals and the precious things in life. The magic of your words keep this inn standing." Rose approached the counter and waved over the bartender.

"Magic?" Vernon repeated with a hitch in his voice. Simply saying the word caused his voice to choke. "I don't like that nonsense."

The woman turned to him and smiled politely. "And yet you believe in it. Excuse me; I have other guests to attend to. Make yourselves comfortable."

The woman swept away, leaving Rose and Vernon by a table with a single occupant.

"Here." Rose shoved a mug in Vernon's hands. "I asked the bartender for the most boring drink in the house. I figured it would be to your taste."

Vernon took a sip from his mug for lack of anything else to do. The drink was familiar, not too strong and not too exotic. It reminded him of the alcohol he used to sneak from his aunt's house as a teenager.

They took a seat at the table. The bearded man who was already sitting there was tall, stiff-backed and dressed strangely. He said nothing as they took a seat, but gave them a nod before he went back to stare moodily into his drink. Vernon was reminded of kings from the old days, the kind he used to read stories about in school. The four of them say in uncomfortable silence for a time. Vernon was on his second drink when a motion caught his eye. Part of the drink slid down the wrong direction and he coughed

"I knew it! I knew the boy had something to do with this!"

Rose craned her neck to look in the direction Vernon was pointing. "Who is he?"

"My nephew. It's his fault we are here. He's into all of that freaky stuff." He paused as he mustered up the courage to continue. "You know. Magic."

"I thought you were perfectly normal," she said in a mocking tone.

"I am. He comes from my wife's side of the family, the side that fights secret wars and who-know-whatsits. His parents got themselves blown up and Petunia and I were stuck raising the brat. He was always in trouble and he liked to take attention off of my son. At least there was a boarding school to ship him off too. It's lucky my son, Dudley, wasn't affected." He paused at looked back in Potter's direction and couldn't find him. "I wish I was back in Little Whinging and we didn't have to have anything more to do with Potter. He's nothing but a nuisance."

Rose laughed. "We can't choose our family no matter how much we wish we could." She ran a hand through her hair. "Christ."

"You sound like you have issues with your family," said the foreign man.

Rose's hand caressed the glass cup. "My grandmother was raped when she was a teenager and my mother was put up for adoption. I met my grandmother for the first time a few years ago, it had taken her that long to get the nerve to contact us. I was going to ask my grandmother why she never married or had anyone else in her family. I wondered if some of her spirit was broken.

"The day after we found her, she died. I had just one day with her, to see her smile and notice how her and my mother laughed the same way. Ever since then, I feel like part of me is missing, that the creep who attacked my grandmother left something in me. Every now and then I have a dream about her. I have a dream where she is young and so full of life. I think that we could have been so close and it depresses me that I never got to know her."

"And I obsess about the man who attacked her and wonder how much of him is in me? I never cared before. Why do I care so much?"

The stranger at the table hummed in thought. "They tell a story in my village that is told to the children to teach them of human nature. Perhaps you can gain some knowledge from it."

_There once was a man who studied magic. He traveled to the edges of the east, to the coast of the west, to the tips of the north, and the depths of the south. He learned from the wise men, heard the whispers of the wrinkled ladies and repeated the questions from children's lips. And when he finished his journeys and learned all that he could, the man returned to the village._

_The man had left the village for a long time and his old friends gasped as he walked into the village walls. They believed they were seeing a ghost and they fled to their homes to share the news. Bold children walked towards him and offered to show him around the village. The man, knowing his way, asked to be guided to the village square so that he could make an announcement. By the time he arrived, there was a crowd gathered._

_He stepped in the middle of the crowd and began to speak._

"_I have learned of magic and I have learned the truth of the gods. I have learned that the gods are not in charge of our destiny and that we can do as we wish. The miracles that they performed are within our grasp and we can do anything. I was a man, but I am now a god._

_And then the man showed the village great miracles. The villagers gasped in amazement as they watched him perform, hardly believing their eyes. Their fear diminished as he spoke and recognized the sorcerer as their old friend. The villagers began to spread the word to other towns and people were flocking to the village to see proof of it themselves. _

_Eventually, the gods learned of the magician. They gathered together and complained of him. He needed to be stopped. And so one of the gods arrived at the village and issued a challenge to the magician._

"_We will acknowledge you as an equal to the gods if you can meet the challenge I provide to you. If you fail, you will be killed." The crowd watched in amazement as the magician accepted the challenge._

_The god bent down to scoop a handful of earth from the ground. He pressed it into his hands and it molded into a bird and took great care in the details. Finally, the god waved his hand and the bird fluttered to life. It chirped several notes in the god's hand before it took off for the sky._

_The magician bent down, scooped a handful of earth and formed a bird. It fluttered to life, chirped a note, and took off in the sky just as the god's had done. The crowd burst out in applause, amazed that one of their own would be acknowledged as a god. _

"_Now you must acknowledge me as a god!"_

"_Ah, but you have failed and so you must die."_

_The man's face turned red in anger. "My bird came to life and flew away as yours did."_

"_True." The god nodded with a glint in his eyes. "But did you make the earth?"_

The stranger finished his story and took a drink of his cup.

Vernon snorted. "So what does that have to do with anything?"

Rose gave him an annoyed look. "It's supposed to be profound so you come up with your own interpretation. Asking for the answer defeats the purpose. Idiot."

"Well, how am I supposed to know that?" Vernon asked in defense. "He didn't even give the story a proper ending." He felt a poke at his shoulder and turned around to face a teenage girl with dirty blonde hair and large eyes. "What?"

"Attention all passengers, we will be landing shortly," she said.

Vernon drew back when he saw the dazed expression in her eyes. _And was that a pair of radishes hanging from her ears?_ "I don't know what you are talking about."

"Attention all passengers, we will be landing shortly." The strange girl repeated in a deeper and more masculine voice. The blonde girl became unfocused and Vernon shook his head in puzzlement. When he looked up once more, he was astonished to see the flight attendant standing next to him.

"You need to put on your seatbelt, sir."

Vernon gaped at her in disbelief as he recognized the interior of a plane. "What? Weren't you just sixteen? And what happened to the bearded guy?"

The flight attendant looked at him in confusion.

"Ignore him," said Rose. "He was talking in his sleep the entire time." She turned to Vernon. "You were dreaming," she said in a firm voice.

He was not comforted by her words or by her tone of voice, as if she could see right into his mind. The dream had felt so real to him, but Rose acted as nothing had happened. Vernon clumsily reached for his seatbelt and snapped it on, brushing aside the open magazine in his lap that he did not remember reading. He was grateful when he was able to get off the plane and make his way over to the Grunnings headquarters. It had been eight months since he last visited home.

The memories of Vernon Dursley's dream vanished under the familiar and mundane thrum of machinery.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Awareness came slowly, trudging through the foggy uncertainty in his mind. First it was the itching sensations on his ribs, then the curl of his toes, and the cold, hard surface underneath him.

He frowned as he looked around the misty room, trying to recall what had just happened to him. The memories were vague and came with great difficulty. He recalled a flash of green light and that he had been waiting for someone.

He toyed with the chain around his neck and felt the cool stone underneath his fingertips. There was a peculiar symbol carved on the surface and a phrase jumped at him as he focused: the Deathly Hallows. He was Harry Potter and he held in his hands the Resurrection Stone. He had just died. Maybe.

Death had not come for him.

He heard something nearby, a strange pitiful noise. Heading in that direction, he could see a bench and underneath it was a basket with a strange, ugly baby. Babies were supposed to imply innocence and potential, but this thing was rotted and corrupt.

Harry felt no urge to reach for the baby, person, _thing._ Perhaps someone kinder would be curious of its origins, more susceptible to its wails. But Harry was not fooled because he knew that things were not created weak and ugly, they became that way. Harry had not created the creature. In this large empty room there was no one to else to blame for its predicament. The creature was to blame for its current predicament.

Irritated by its continued whimpering, Harry left the room to get a better look of his current location. He passed through empty corridors, went up and down stairs, entered restrooms and found everything empty. It looked like an aggrandized version of King's Cross, but the entire building was empty. They only trace of life was the remains of a single cigarette in a ash tray outside a janitor's closet. Other than that, the place was pristine.

It was strange that he was here with no one to talk to and no explanation. He thought that he might be dreaming, but Harry's dreams were never so boring. And he would have liked his imagination different clothes as well. He was currently wearing one of same four outfits that he had been wearing since he went into hiding. His current shirt was getting a bit worn at the sleeves and the bottoms one of his shoes had a small hole by his big toe.

Then again, Harry wasn't anywhere real.

Exasperated, Harry flopped down on a bench and lay down. It wasn't long before he fell asleep.

He awoke a few hours later to the sound of whistling.

It was darker now, the sun had set and the train station was illuminated by dozens of lamps. Harry stood up from the uncomfortable bench and headed towards the sound. The whistler had his back facing toward Harry and he stood on a ladder. Harry could make out the blond hair on the male's head. The man had opened the door to one of the clocks that decorated the train station to expose the gears.

Harry cleared his throat. "Hello?"

The man turned awkwardly on the ladder so he could see Harry. "Oh, hello." He placed the delicate pieces carefully on the small platform attached to the ladder and came down.

He reached out to shake Harry's hand. "I'm Prez. I'm here to fix the clock."

* * *

**A/N: **I read the story about the gods somewhere a few years ago. I guess it is supposed to symbolize fanfiction, I couldn't resist putting it in.

Three chapters left!

**Next Chapter:** Time


	58. Ch 54 Time

**Chapter Fifty-Four**

**Time**

_**"Justice is a delusion you will not find on this or any other sphere. And wisdom? Wisdom is no part of dreams, lithe walker, though dreams are a part of the sum of each life's experiences, which is the only wisdom that matters. **_

_**But revelation? That is the province of dream."**_

**~Dream Country

* * *

**

As Harry shook the outstretched hand, he noticed he had overestimated Prez's age. There was still a bit of boyish youth about him that was tempered by steely confidence. He couldn't have been more than a few years older than Harry.

"I was sleeping in another room, so you probably didn't notice me. You are the first person that I have seen here," said Harry. "Do you know where we are?"

Prez rubbed his chin in thought. "Sort of. I know where I am, and logically, it would mean that I know where we are. But it doesn't work like that in this case."

"Okay." Harry mulled the statement over in his head. "So where are you?"

"I'm in a train station." Prez laughed at Harry's scowl.

"Someone asked me for a favor. I agreed and hopped on a train in Chicago and it delivered me here. I'm supposed to fix a broken clock." He waved his hand at the item in question. "And when I'm done fixing the clock, I will take another train and I'll be back in Chicago."

"Do you do that often? Fix broken clocks for people you only sort of know, by taking a random train to a place you can't even locate?" Harry sneered derisively. He was having a hard time understanding how one could trust another so much.

"It's not like that. Like I said, I sort of owed the guy. I like fixing clocks anyway, so it wasn't a big deal. I grew up in a small town with lots of watches and clocks. Fixing clocks is a reminder of home."

Harry shook his head. "But there is no one here! The place is empty. You don't need a clock for an empty station!"

The young man shrugged apologetically. "I didn't ask why he wanted it fixed. And you're here, so the train station isn't empty like you say it is." He climbed back on the ladder and fiddled more with the gears. Harry watched him work in silence. "By the way, you never told me your name"

"I'm Harry Potter." He envied Prez a little bit. He had never been very good a fixing things, his skill were more of the chaos and destruction variety.

"Harry, do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Go ahead." It wasn't as if Harry had anywhere to be.

"You don't know why you are here so why do you stay in this train station? You could have walked out the doors."

Harry stared at his worn shoes in thought. The thought had occurred to him briefly, but his gut instinct had been to say put. "It's kind of weird, but you'll have to go with it. So please don't look at me like I'm crazy."

Prez nodded. "I've seen lots of strange things myself. I'll keep an open mind."

"I…I think I died." He whispered the words softly. A part of him was still disappointed that he was once again unique, for Death had not come for him like she had for everyone else. "I remember being in a forest and then I was here. I could have woken up anywhere, so that means I'm here for a reason. But what am I waiting for?"

Prez stopped to look down at Harry and scratched his head in thought. "Maybe you are waiting for a train." He waved his hand to the empty train tracks a short distance away.

Harry snorted. "Does that mean you have to fix the clock so it shows up on time?"

Prez grinned. "Well, I don't know about that. I'm not saying you're wrong, but I don't like to make assumptions. There were some people I used to work with who thought a lot like you. They were always over thinking some things when sometimes the answer was right in front of them." He tinkered with something in the clock. "Then again, they were politicians."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, I can get a bit obsessive. It's just…" He paused, uncertain if he wanted to continue.

"What?"

"Mmm… nothing." Harry stared down at his shoes once more, unwilling to continue.

Prez frowned and stepped down from the ladder. "You have something on your mind, I can tell. What can it hurt? There's no one else here and you never can have too much advice."

The temptation was too much. "Okay. I see your point. I'm important, you see. I'm more important that most of the people who have ever lived and that's not an exaggeration, it's a fact. "

Prez looked at him with amusement.

"Really, I am. I don't know if you're human or… something else. But I'm a wizard and I have magic. I can make things change, and float. I even have a magic wand. And in my secret magic society, everyone knows my name."

"Like on _Cheers_?"

"Eh?"

"It was a television show in the eighties." Prez was leaning against wall and giving his entire attention to Harry.

"Oh. I didn't ever watch any. As I was saying, there is a dark wizard who killed my parents and he is the most powerful wizard alive. The people in my world have expectations of me because some of them think I'm a hero and there was a war going on. I've done my best to stay out of attention, but some of the hope that people held for me never went away. I tried to give people them what they wanted, I protected them as best as I could, and sometimes I screwed up. I did all I could to stop the dark wizard, but I've never told anyone about the Endless."

"And who are they?"

"They are forces of nature that have something planed for me. I don't know what it is, but sometimes I feel like I'm in over my head. This dark wizard killed my parents and ruined my life so I should be focused on him. But instead I'm obsessed with the Endless and what they are planning for me. I'm terrified that I'm going to screw everything up. That I'm too proud to admit my weaknesses and I should not be caring about this. I was just hit with a Killing Curse and I should be dead. I should be _done_."

Prez nodded in understanding. "I know what you are saying. I haven't a clue about the magic thing, but everything else makes sense. Finding out there is more to life than just **life**." He leaned against the wall. "Do you know who I am?"

Harry shook his head.

"I am the President of the United States."

Harry looked at Prez blankly. "I thought that they were all old."

Prez laughed. "It depends where you are from. I was elected by the time I was twenty during the 1970s. Some of it was luck, some of it was timing, and I knew there was something at work that was beyond me. Sometimes things were too easy. Life was too easy and then…" he paused in thought. "I did my best every day and at times it was more than I thought. And sometimes it was not enough.

"People loved me as President." He smiled sadly. "If I listened to what people everyone else was telling me to do, I would have stayed President forever. But I knew that wasn't right. Things needed to change and I wasn't interested in the position anymore. I vanished from the public life and went on my way."

"When I died I found out there was someone behind the scenes. And he tried to take credit for all of the good choices that I made. That didn't sit right with me. I thought I could have some peace. Fortunately, I had a little help and I was able to escape. I made my way to the other Americas."

Harry frowned in puzzlement. "Other Americas?"

"Yeah, it's amazing. You've ever heard of alternate universes? It's like that. There are all of these different worlds stacked next to each other. I go place to place and listen to people. I travel the mountains, fields, and deserts. I get to watch how the world changes around me and see how much it stays the same. And I'm happy."

"You mentioned that you did your best to protect people from the war, but you can only do so much. They have to learn to stand up for themselves and it's only then will you learn if you were successful. One of the greatest signs of a leaders is knowing the right time to walk away. You can stay on the same path you've always been on or you can make a new one."

Harry mulled the advice. For a complete stranger who was only here to fix a clock, Prez' life and his own was eerily relatable. He had accepted the power people had given him, used it responsibly, and walked away when it time to move on. "Who asked you here?"

"I don't think it really matters. Ah!" He removed his hand from the clock and brought out a rubber duck. "I wonder how this ended up here." Prez dropped the duck on the floor and began to assemble the clock once more. "You wouldn't happen to know the time, Harry?"

A strange sort of calm settle over him. "7:52" Harry found himself a little astonished by his own certainty.

"Thanks." Prez set the time and clicked the clock face shut.

Harry watched Prez pick up his things. "I think my train is coming," said Harry in wonderment. For the first time in a while, he felt like he had some control over his life.

Prez flung his bag over his shoulder. "It was nice meeting you. Maybe I'll see you around sometime. Have you ever been to the United States?"

"No." Harry could feel small vibrations rumble underneath his feet as a train approached in the distance. "I might go there one day though. A holiday from life would be nice." The strange meaning behind his statement was not lost.

"Okay, I'll keep my eyes open for you." Prez gave a charming grin, the same one that prompted a nation to vote for him despite his age and lack of experience. "Take care, Harry."

And then the President of the United States shook hands with the Boy-Who-Lived.

As Harry watched him walk away, he thought about the bitter tone that had crept in Prez's voice. Someone close to him had gotten hurt, that's what happened when one got involved in things that were beyond mortal realms. It made no sense that a nation so large would elect someone so young and inexperienced like Prez. But in the end, things came out alright.

It was nice to know there was at least one other person who could understand Harry's predicament.

He inhaled sharply as he heard a shrill whistle. A sleek, black train pulled into the station and sent billowing puffs of steam into the air. Harry made his way through the haze to the tracks and watched the carriages slow. When the train came to a stop; the doors nearest to Harry popped open in invitation. He stepped into the train and tugged the door shut with a clatter. The train lurched back to life and Harry watched the fallen rubber duck on the pavement grow smaller through the window.

Harry went through the aisles and looked through every compartment to look for any sign of life. But the train, like the station it departed from, was pristine. It looked like the train had never been used before. He continued onwards, his sense of anticipation grew with every step, wary of what he would find at the front. Finally, he reached the driver's cabin.

Steeling himself, Harry opened the door.

He saw the boots that were propped up against the controls first. His gaze followed them as the feet lowered to the floor and the chair spun around. Death was sitting in the seat, a pleasant smile upon her lips. She wore a tuxedo, complete with top hat and tails.

"Hello, Harry."

A wave of relief overcame him. "You're here. I thought you weren't coming for me."

She lifted the top hat and placed it on his head. "I don't always get to people right away. Sometimes I have to wait for a bit." Her hand patted his in affection.

"You like hats," Harry blurted as he desperately tried to ignore than the brush of her fingertips and the pit of anxiety that had reignited in his body. "I have a gift for you."

"Oh?"

"Yes," he affirmed as he reached into his pocket. Delirium had told him this random fact a long time ago, and only now was it any help to him. Had Del known two years ago what would occur now? Or was it simply inevitable that he would be in this position?

Harry shook his head as he tossed away the thoughts. In the end, it didn't really matter. But in this dream world, a place torn between reality and hallucination, he could find some answers. Harry placed his hand in his pocket and began to search through the contents. His hand maneuvered around the Sneakascope, the slick Invisibility Cloak, and the knife given to him by his guardian. And at the very bottom of his pocket, his fingers came in contact with some fuzzy material. He tugged the hat up with a flourish and presented the lion hat to Death.

"Oh, that's spectacular!" She plucked Luna's old hat from his hands and placed it on her head. As she gave the hat a poke with her fingertip, it roared. She examined her reflection on the window in front of her.

"I knew you liked hats." Harry plopped himself in the seat next to Death. "Did you arrange this?" He pointed to the train around them.

"This little interlude was Dream's idea. He thought you would want an opportunity to gather your thoughts for a little bit. He likes to brood." Death gave a smile. "I thought you could use the company."

Harry felt another touch of affection towards her.

She stood up as the train began to slow. "Come on," she said as she passed him. "There is someplace you need to be."

They exited the train and stepped onto cobbled pavement. Harry saw a building close by that was surrounded by a forest to the left. He also caught the distinctive smell of an ocean that must be nearby.

"Where are we?" It was the second time he was asking the question in such a short time. He hoped that Death would give him a better answer than Prez was able to muster.

"We are at entrance of the World's End." She had taken off her lion's hat and had tucked it under her arm.

Harry's mouth twitched as a smile threatened to break out on his face. "Interesting. Does that mean that the rest of the world is behind me?" Harry turned around to look in the distance where the train tracks vanished.

It was his right eye that slid the wrong direction and rolled to the side of his head. His left stubbornly refused to move but unfocused by the vastness of the images before it. There was dust, then sky, water, life, animal, man, time and civilization. The entire history of the world was forced into his head with the gentleness of drunken acromantula.

"Uueerrgh" was the only sound Harry was able to make before he collapsed.

"Silly," Death muttered as she rolled him over so he was on his back. "You really shouldn't look whole world at once." He felt her wipe the drool and vomit away from his mouth with a handkerchief. Harry groaned again.

"Come on," she said as she dragged him to the building. "You should be better in the inn."

Harry clung to her, knowing at any attempt at walking without assistance would be met with utter failure. He cracked open his eyes when he heard the sound of raucous laughter. The pub was enormous but somehow it maintained an intimate feel. It was filled with all types of people, even a few creatures and giants. Feeling even worse, Harry shut his eyes again.

Death guided him over to a stool and handed him a goblet that was filled to the brim with cider. Harry took the cup from her and promptly managed to spill half of the liquid on his shirt. He clutched the tabletop to keep from swaying and drank a gulp.

"Why are we here?" The cider warmed his belly and the headache that had slammed into him began to ease.

"We need to take care of something very important. I am certain you are aware of my family's meddling in your life. This is the opportunity that you have been asking for, the possibility to free yourself from my families involvement in your life."

She waved over the bartender. "Excuse me, but where could I find the owner of this place?"

"The lady of the house is taking care of the faerie Cluracan."

Harry and Death walked over in the direction indicated. The lady was wiping a table around a passed out male with pointed ears. She straightened when she saw them, and bowed to Death.

"Lady, it is an honor to have you at my establishment. What brings you here?"

"Business, of course," replied Death. "I need you to allow me passage to the doorway."

The glasses in the woman's hand shattered as she dropped it. "Is it time?" The male at the table snorted at her outburst, but remained asleep.

Death shook her head. "I need to attend to something else."

The lady was visibly shaken but still led Harry and Death through the crowded inn. They passed several tables and made their way over to the sleeping giant. The large mug slid from his hand and tipped onto the floor as they approached. Guests at a nearby table yelped as liquid from his cup splashed onto them and a familiar girl tumbled to the floor.

"What are you doing in there?" Harry asked as he stared at the youngest member of the Endless.

"I'm at the bottom of every drink," Delirium said wisely. She twisted a small lock of hair in her hands. This small action sent a river of mead and several fish to be wrung onto the inn floor.

"Sister?" queried Death.

"I thought…" Del twiddled her thumbs in anxiety. "I thought that Harry could use a friend right now. You don't mind if I came with you, do you Harry?" Her large mismatched eyes looked back up at him.

"That would be nice," said he reached for her small hand. Harry's chest gave a squeeze of affection as she leaned against his arm. Del's appearance was another sign that the universe complexities. Even though she was one of the oldest things in the universe, at some point in the past two years he had become older than her.

The lady of the inn took them up several narrow staircases. Harry wished they would arrive soon. The mead that had covered Delirium made her hands very sticky.

"Here we are," said the innkeeper as she led them to a room. She gave a short bow as she departed.

Death opened the door and led the three of them inside. The room was circular and plain, with no windows or furnishings. Death walked over and placed her hand on a patch of wooden surface and Harry watched as a doorknob formed and heard a clanking noise as a steel bolt appeared.

"Go through the door, Harry," she said.

"Why do I have to go in?" The innkeeper's reaction had not filled him with confidence.

Death gave a small smile. "It is such a complicated answer Harry, one whose origins take place at the very beginning of the universe."

"I have time," said Harry with absolute certainty. "I want… I need to understand why this is happening. There is a reason I'm singled out from everyone else. Why me?"

"There are certain rules in the universe that are unbreakable, even by our standards. These rules give the universe purpose and shape. When someone or something attempts to escape those rules, we-" she pointed to herself and Delirium, "are there to mend them."

"Or break them," said Del from her sprawled position on the floor.

"Tom Riddle sought immortality with certain belief that he could succeed. The universe recognized this act of defiance and acted accordingly, through us. You became a Horcrux because the universe was trying to right itself. Because of this, part of your Destiny was etched and became inevitable. Because of this, Dream sought to make you a hero to the villain of Lord Voldemort. Because of this, I gave you the Deathly Hallows."

Harry frowned. "But the Deathly Hallows didn't really do anything. It didn't really make me Master of…_you_."

"No, it did not," explained Death. "That was an artistic flourish delivered by Beedle the Bard. You are not immortal, but in a way you harder to kill. Of course, the Hallows weren't handed to you in a silver plate, you had to earn it. The story of Deathly Hallows is a lesson. Everyone dies no matter how powerful the wand, it is certain no matter much it is avoided, and it can be a gift if you are wise enough."

"You learned these lessons and you understood them. Sometimes you went around it the wrong way, but everyone makes mistakes. The Deathly Hallows were crafted by my hand so there would be protection for someone. When you came along, I knew the time had come. The Hallows don't make you immortal, but it gives you the ability to choose when to die."

"Unfortunately, there was a problem. My family became a little too interested in your future. Desire's influence shaped your world even more than you know. As a result of your continued exposure to us, you began to pick up certain traits and powers." Death sighed.

"We are too powerful for humans. Most forget about our existence out of self-defense. If they forget, they don't get hurt. That's how it was for you at the beginning, before you went to Hogwarts. Others feel an indescribable longing for something more and go through their lives in a daze. And then there are those who don't forget. Those people are always the worst off, because their lives become inevitably entwined in something deeper."

Harry listened to Death's explanation with rapt attention. The answers that he sought for so many years were finally before him.

"You learned of our nature and you learned of human nature. In turn, you began to use this understanding and gain access to abilities that others could not. You could see glimpses of the future that were written out in Destiny's book, you had the ability to use words and play with other's hearts and dreams and fears to gain what you wanted. You could tell the moments when an important choice was being made and could use the situation to your advantage. You could play with lives like they were candy, risking, bartering, and come out intact.

"Did you ever notice how easy it was for you? One shouldn't be able to challenge a dragon, set a stadium on fire, and escape from an inferno with only a bit of soot. At your best you were cruel, and at your worst you were kind. But you were always lucky," Death said with rueful smile.

"As time went along, you learned to control the power more and it became worse. You can't harness that sort of energy and escape unharmed. A part of that came to a climax earlier in the year when you killed Dumbledore. You saw how your actions to manipulate others affected your life and how the universe was intertwined. We understand this clearly because it is our nature, but you are mortal. The control you had over the power inside of you shattered. If it wasn't for my intervention, you could have caused a great amount of damage to the world. I contained the power temporarily, but I knew it was only a matter of time before it broke free."

Harry sucked in a breath. "I tried to say some inspiring things because I didn't want people to give up hope. And when I spoke, I felt their spirits rise and even as my own would slip away from me." His eyes narrowed in irritation as he realized that she was the cause of his own self-doubt.

"I helped you."

"You neutered me!" Harry said indignantly.

Death gave him a chastising look. "The only reason you haven't self-destructed is because you are a Horcrux. Tom Riddle used your blood during the rebirthing ceremony and it strengthened the ties so a part of him is keeping a part of you alive as well. It's not much, but it's enough to bring you here."

"We need to get rid of that power because it is still inside of you. You need to go into that room. In there you will use all of the power you have leeched off of us in one moment. It should free you from the mess you have embroiled yourself in."

Harry looked at the door in worry. "You're not coming with me?"

Death shook her head. "The universe is a circle and I have to stay inside of the walls. If I leave it, there is no Death and there is no life. There are lots of things left to do before it's time for me to walk through that door."

"What is on the other side?"

"A choice." She cocked her head to the side as she pondered the words in her head. "A Decision."

"What kind of choice?" Harry continued to stall, not entirely comfortable with going into a place that Death did not.

"It's not that bad, Harry," Delirium piped up. "I'll go first." She walked over to the door and slipped inside.

"What kind of choice?" he repeated as his hand touched the doorknob. It was cool to the touch, like the Resurrection Stone that hung from his neck.

"Every choice," Death replied. There was an unusual smile on her face. It wasn't happy, the kind that comforted Harry even when he was faced with the most inexplicable situations. But it was an effortless expression and he wondered if Death wasn't always so cheerful. The look was very particular and the description flitted at the edges of Harry's mind.

_Grim._

Harry took a deep breath and then pushed the door open.

"What the-?"

His mouth dropped open as he looked at the gigantic room before him. It was like an enormous store that was filled with shelves upon shelves of toys. Stuffed animals, rubber palls, toy trucks, and kits that hung on the wall with their ribbons trailing down. Harry looked up to the ceiling and saw that ramps and pulleys that were in the process of lowering more objects into their places.

Harry made his way over to the nearest wall which was lined with large bookcases. He selected a slim book at random, _The Suicide Letters,_ and flipped it open to the first page.

_Hey Ho! Hey Ho!_

_Suicide is the way to go. _

_A is for Asphyxiation_

_B is for Bacon_

_C is for Cyanide_

Perturbed, Harry set the book back onto the shelf and made his way deeper into the warehouse.

He passed by shelves of stuffed animals, decks of cards stacked in towers, and large tubs of rubber balls. And during this, another object would fall from the ramp high above him and land perfectly in place. Harry wondered who was responsible for all of this. Perhaps no one was responsible at all and this organization was done without supervision. The latter thought made Harry distinctly uncomfortable.

He heard a familiar tune as he made his way down the large aisle filled with small fire engines.

Harry closed his eyes and let the music swim in his head. It was a comforting song in its familiarity, although he had only heard it in misty fantasies. He followed the music deeper into the warehouse.

The song was coming from an enormous old fashioned gramophone. The record spun in rotation, circle after circle. There was a young woman sitting on a table, perched next to the old player. She was thin and willowy and wore a silver dress that shimmered like water. She hummed and swayed with the music. Her most distinctive feature was her hair, an extraordinary shade of _pink._

The dress began to change hues, as if the young woman's joy could not be contained by a single color. There was something familiar about her smile, although he wasn't not used to it looking so intact. Her bright blue eyes shined back at him. Harry gaped.

"Del?"

* * *

**Next Chapter: **Any Colour You Like


	59. Ch 55 Any Colour You Like

**Chapter Fifty-Five**

**Any Colour You Like**

_**Do you know why I stopped being Delight, my brother? **__**I**__** do. There are things not in your book. There are paths outside this garden. You would do well to remember that.**_

Delirum to Destiny in _Brief Lives

* * *

_

The young woman before Harry was Del, he knew it in his heart and in his mind. Every inch of him recognized her as the odd girl from his childhood, although difficult to understand and unstable. But she looked nothing like he had seen before. She was clean and whole, and _beautiful_. Del had been a fourteen-year-old on the other side of the door, and now here was a young woman in her twenties smiling back at him.

"I'm not usually like this," she said as her fingers came up to twirl a rose colored lock of her hair. "I'm surprised you recognized me."

"You look nice." Harry muttered in embarrassment, finding himself unreal and awkward under the perfection she exuded. "I like your hair." He walked forward and stood in front of the gramophone where the record was still playing its song.

She giggled and slid off the table that she sat upon. Delight pressed down at the nonexistent wrinkles on her dress. "Thank you, Harry. My name is Delight."

"I thought you were Delirium."

"I was like this before. A long time ago." Her eyes turned misty, an expression that Harry recognized from Luna's own behavior. "But then I changed and now I'm not. At least, not out there in the real world. This place doesn't count."

"But why?" Harry couldn't understand what had caused Delight to change into Delirium. There was a terrible pain in her other form that he couldn't see anyone choosing freely.

Delight bit her lip, causing a small dot of blood to form. "I was engaged once and he was wonderful and I knew that everything, absolutely everything would be perfect. And then he..." Delight drifted off as a shuttered expression crossed her face, her eyes changing from blue to the familiar mismatch pair. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

"Change or die," she said in a stiff voice. When she opened her eyes again, they were blue again and the painful expression had vanished.

Harry dropped the subject. "What am I doing here?"

"You have to make a choice. I told you before that you needed to be careful with your choices when I let you see the colors in your eyes." She pulled back a section of pink hair and pinned it back with a passing butterfly. "I was trying to help you and I gave you all sorts of clues. I'm sorry if you didn't understand it. It's very hard for me to think straight when I'm in my other form and sometimes it gets a bit… muddled."

"Yeah, but..." Harry looked at his surroundings. The room was enormous beyond comprehension and he felt the familiar power of his stomach twist. "I don't know how."

She took his hand and led him down the aisles, passing toy trucks and racks of boomerangs. "Everything here is a choice. A cheese sandwich or a peanut butter one. The time that you woke up in the morning and which way you took to work. Go up or turn left. When a choice is made, it becomes a new world. Most of them are tiny things." Del dipped her hands into a large tub of rubber balls. "But some choices are the difference between entire worlds. On the other side of the door is the real world that you know, and the choices that were never picked go into hiding here. This room is the other side of the coin, the path not chosen-"

"The Dark Side of the Moon," Harry said as gradual understanding filled his mind, listening to the record that played behind him.

"Yes. Nothing in here is real, but everything could be." She gave his belly a poke and Harry drew back as the energy inside him reacted with enough force to make him dizzy. "Make your choice and all of the power in you from us will be let go in one action. You can change the world into whatever you want."

"Anything?" Harry trembled with the responsibility.

Delight walked over to a chest of drawers and opened it up. It was filled with thousands of marbles, the twisting swirls of color that shone through transparent glass. "Try it," she said as she held out a marble for him.

Harry plucked the marble from her hand and his hand tightened around the glass. "What do I-"

The words were cut off as he his world twisted and spun like the coral hue trapped in the toy in his hand and he was a somewhere else entirely and he was watching; he was being...

_He was a seventh year student of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Harry straightened out the Head Boy badge on his chest; determine to keep it pinned properly. He saw Ron Weasley frown at him from the corner of his eye, but he didn't care. He knew Weasley was incredibly envious of him. His family was poor, but for the most part they remained popular by having a steady stream of characters in their family. But genetics had failed the sixth boy of the family, because there was nothing remarkable about him at all. _

_Ginny on the other hand…_

The marble slipped through Harry's fingers and clattered to the floor. Harry blinked as he withdrew from the strange world before him, a place where he was besotted with Ginny. He remembered vaguely of a time where she blushed before him, her face turning unusually pink. And he remembered Delight's confession that her helpful clues sometimes came out_ 'a bit muddled.'_

Talk about an understatement.

He reached for a rubber ball in the next container, anxious to see what this world held….

_The worn surface of the handle in his hands was smooth against his fingertips. Harry knew nothing of love, of tender hearts and windswept kisses. However, if he was asked, Harry would have thought love was like the sturdy handle in his hands, and the weight of the hammer that swung with force._

_Love was violent battlefield, in which male and female fought opposing struggles. It was only by moving swiftly, acting quickly, and destroying the enemy would there be a victor. And if successful, Harry would be able to pillage at anytime._

_It would be even better if Harry had an enemy whom he could decapitate at anytime._

_Again… Viking Harry knew nothing of love._

Snorting, Harry placed down the rubber ball and made his way to a set of jacks.

_The staff at Hogwarts was looking at him at awe. Dumbledore clapped his hands in front of him and beamed. "Harry, my boy! That is such remarkable skill for someone your age. Why in just a few short years you have managed to master all of your ninja arts, getting a reputation among skilled ninja, and killed a whole army of people. These are the makings of a leader."_

_Harry Potter, member of the most powerful clan in Lightening Country, nodded. "I know am exceptionally talented. People have remarked on it all the time. I think that I am doing well enough on my own and I don't need to attend this _Hogwarts_." _

_Dumbledore shook his head. "I beg to differ, dear Harry. Even though you have mastered your secret bloodline, and have challenged the most feared of ninjas, you are still eleven years old and therefore a child. Here is your wand. Now follow Professor McGonagall, she will take you to class where you will learn how to turn a match into a needle."_

_Harry snorted. "I already know how to do that." He clasped his hands in front of him, and they folded into the appropriate hand signal. The match turned into a needle with a poof of smoke. "See?"_

_"Very clever Harry." Dumbledore's exceptionally bright eyes twinkled back at him. "However, you don't know how to do that with a wand."_

Harry withdrew from the world with a confused expression on his face and glanced at Delight. "Ninja?"

She smiled to him. "Anything is possible. You might want to try a different area if this one is a little stranger than you would like."

Harry plunked the jack down into the pile and made his way down the selves. There a section that was filled with rubber toys and Harry climbed up the mountain of rubber snakes to pluck the one that was resting at the very top. The snake wobbled in Harry's hand and as the fangs were revealed as he gave it a squeeze and…

_"But why? Why are you doing this to me?" Harry muttered as he hugged the ratty blanket in his hands, the same one that he had been using all of his life. "I thought that you loved me."_

_"Love you?" Lily Potter spat in his face. "Why would we love you? You may have been born the same day as your bother, and I nearly died to save the both of you, and you are my son, but we don't love you." She sniffed as she threw away the small art craft he made in class. _

_"You aren't the Boy-Who-Lived and we have no use for you and just take time away from your brother. Honestly, it would be better off if you died that night."_

Harry dropped the rubber snake from his hand and began his clumsy decent back down. He had little opinion of his parents, but his present belief that they were kind people who occasionally got into mischief suited him quite well. The suggestion that they were abusive left him uncomfortable.

He made a left and headed into a different area, finding a giant pool of inflated balloons. Harry bent down to pluck one out and gave it an experimental squeeze. He could see his reflection staring back at him from the surface of the balloon and…

_The reflection in front of him morphed. The effects of the spell had worn off and now Harry was faced with the secret that had been hiding for sixteen years. His mother had lied to everyone she had ever met, including her husband._

_"I'm sorry," said Dumbledore morosely as McGonagall looked at him in horror. "I did not know."_

_Harry ran a hand through his locks of hair. "I'm... a Snape."_

The balloon popped out of his hand and floated lazily onto the floor. "NO!" Harry gave it a distrustful look. "No, No. NO!"

"Is something wrong, Harry?" Delight glided over to him, a wreath of plastic flowers in her hair.

"That!" He pointed to the innocent looking balloon the floor. "That thing said I was a Snape." A series of epithets was at the tip of his tongue, but it seemed wrong to utter them in front of Delight.

She giggled and picked up the balloon. "So? You act that something is wrong with it."

"But I'm not... Snape, he.... I hate him! He's churlish, and crude, and selfish. The only thing I've seen him smile at was when something bad happened to another person. So where did this come from?"

Delight tilted her head and looked at him with amusement. "It came from nowhere. It is nowhere and nothing and never was. You are mad at something that's not real. Now who's the crazy one?"

Harry felt himself flush in embarrassment, but refused to let it go. "So it's not real? Not even a little?"

"Nope. It's a fake as anything can be. But it's as real as you want it to be. For some people it might be real."

"I don't want it to be real." Harry ran his hand through his hair, double-checking that it had not turned greasy and lank.

"Then it's not." She squeezed the balloon in her hands and it gave a satisfying pop and the rubber shell fell to the ground. "Of course, it's just an idea. And ideas are hard to get rid of. Follow me; I think you will like some of the things over here more." Del pulled at his hand and led him away. Still perturbed, Harry turned around to look at the balloon, which had begun to fill with air once more.

Delight gave his hand a squeeze to get his attention. "You know, you really should be more relaxed. I'm quite certain there are worlds in which you are never born and there are worlds in which you are born too early, and where you were born too late, and worlds in which you are actually the Antichrist who was lost by some nuns who talked too much and named Adam."

"My name's not Adam."

"Sometimes it is, and sometimes it's Brian, and sometimes it's Jack, and it's Leonard, and sometimes it's Harold." She stopped and let go of his hand. "Here we are; you should take a peek at this area."

"Okay." Harry lifted up one of the plastic pails hesitantly and lifted it to his eye level.

_He was running across a graveyard. _

_"Accio," he said as he summoned the trophy into his hands and grabbed the hand of Cedric's corpse. _

_He landed with a ungraceful thump onto the Quidditch Pitch and could hear the orchestra burst out in song as the school cheered on their champions. The adrenalin was still rushing in Harry's veins and he could barely think because of it. All he knew was that Voldemort was back and it was because of this that Cedric was dead, and it was because of this that he was bleeding from his side and it hurt to breath. He saw Mad-Eye Moody standing off to the side and charged at him. "You brought him back you psychopath!" _

_Moody was surprised by the blatant attack and they tumbled across the field. Harry was a blur of anger and rage. He forgot about magic, and he was not aware of the shrieks as others discovered Cedric's death, and he forgot the wound in his side that was leaving a smudged trail of blood across the field. He was only aware of the injustice of it all, that the man he trusted had ultimately betrayed him._

Harry pulled away from the vision of this world and gave a ragged breath. This world was intense. The other worlds he had visited before were cartoonish and amusing in their own right. But this wasn't filled with oddities, it was a world that held traces of something bitter and familiar. He placed down the plastic pail and moved on.

To his left he a small chess set and picked up one of the pieces.

_A serene voice called out from the knocker on the wooden door. "Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?"_

"_Hmm… what do you think, Harry?" said Luna, looking thoughtful._

_He looked at her in surprise. "What? Isn't there just a password?"_

"_Oh no, you've got to answer the question," said Luna._

"_What if you get it wrong?"_

"_Well, you have to wait for someone who gets it right," said Luna. "That way you learn, you see?"_

"_Yeah. Trouble is, we can't really afford to wait for anyone else, Luna." Harry looked over his shoulder, trying to see if Snape was making his way up to the Ravenclaw entrance. He needed to see what the diadem looked like._

"_No, I see what you mean," said Luna seriously. "Well then, I think the answer is that a circle has no beginning."_

"_Well reasoned," said the voice and the door swung open._

Harry withdrew from the world and scrutinized the chess piece. It was worn and chipped on the bottom, as if it had been passed down a considerable amount of times. He wasn't certain how to feel about it, there was no obvious event that brought bile to his stomach like the other worlds. Luna's appearance was a welcome change too. He placed the piece in his pocket; perhaps he would take another look at it later.

He moved on to another world and another and another and something became explicitly clear. The worlds were painful. Something happened in each one that made him unhappy, that gave his life challenge and made him worry and brought him back in conflict with The Dark Lord. He picked up another object, and then another, and then another. And when he took a break to observe all of the worlds he examined, a thought floated in his mind. Harry could do anything. The appearance of an abusive Lilly Potter showed he could make it so his parents never died. The sky was the limit.

And why stop there? Harry could make it so Voldemort never existed. A shiver of anticipation spiraled in Harry's body.

And why stop there? Perhaps he could make it so Slytherin never came into power. Without someone to champion those ideas, perhaps there was a chance that the belief of blood supremacy never took hold.

Harry began the shake as he looked at the massive warehouse before him. How far back should he go? And what would that mean for the world when he returned?

Harry eagerly made his way through stranger possibilities, tasting each world for brief moments and casting them aside when they did not fulfill his desire. The further back in time he traveled, the more dissatisfied he grew. It some places, Harry didn't recognize himself at all, and was flung into arbitrary widows of time watching people he did not recognize.

He would have to choose something more in his time.

Through it all, Harry was mindful of the small wooden chess piece in his pocket; a place that where he recognized himself quite easily, as if it were his mirror self he was watching. However, he was still fighting Voldemort in that world. But the importance of his choice was starting to weigh on him, and he was beginning to feel sick.

Voldemort was a part of Harry's life and his very essence was tied in their final battle. Harry had balked at the connection before, and struggled against his destiny. But here, where Harry could see all of the examples splayed out in front of him in a clean pallet, he was faced with the truth.

He liked who he was.

He didn't want to be a Snape. He didn't want to be a ninja. He didn't want to have family.

The extenuating circumstances of his childhood had made him clever, and resilient, and it made him actively work to make the world someplace were acceptance could be found. World peace was a lofty and elusive goal, but now Harry was willing to settle for something smaller, his own personal peace. The Harry in the chess piece seemed to have a bit of that.

He heard Delight give a cry of joy behind him. "Oh, here it is! I wonder how it got here?" She lifted a chain in her hand and tied it around her neck.

Harry walked over her. "I think this will do," he said as he lifted up the chess piece in his hand to show it to Delight.

"Are you certain?" she asked. Her hand was wrapped around a small gold coin that hung from her neck. It spun in her hand, the light catching on its surface from an unknown light source.

Harry paused. Her earnest expression carried a weight that he had not seen before, one more suited to her alter ego of Delirium. And then he noticed that the coin she had in her had was the same one he had given her. The golden DA coin.

He thought of other coins too, the one that fell from Draco's hands as he begged Harry for forgiveness for killing Sirius. He thought of the coin he had given Lucius Malfoy in an attempt of blackmail, and he thought of another Endless. He thought of Destruction, and the lesson he had imparted to Harry one Hogsmeade weekend: there is no such thing as a one-sided coin.

He closed his hand around the worn chess piece. "No, I think I've changed my mind." He walked over to the old fashioned gramophone and watched the old record spin. Harry had been given a lot of advice over the years, some freely, some bitterly, and some were lessons learned by his own experience.

There are ways around everything, but perhaps not in the way you desire.

Want. Take. Own.

Death is the force of equality, look into its eyes and stand proud.

Never underestimate the power of a good duck.

There is beauty in despair.

There is truth in even the most fantastic of tales.

There is no right and wrong. There is only power and those too weak to see it.

To know yourself, is to be powerful. To know others, is to be wise. To know both is to be a gift.

Things change.

These were lessons from the Endless, lessons imparted to him specifically for this moment. He thought of the minuscule world in his hands, a place that he had tasted for seconds. He had little knowledge of its history, and in that world he had yet to get rid of the Horcruxes, because the Dark Lord was a part of his life. The music stopped playing, the record coming to a stop so he could read the name Pink Floyd. The last words of the song lingered in his head.

**_"There is no dark side of the moon really. Matter of fact, it's all dark."_**

"I need more time," he told Delight, tossing the bishop on the table.

"Take as much as you need," she said.

Harry traveled down the aisles, mindful of the steady clunking of the ramps and pulleys above him which were adding more choices to the list. Sweat was beginning to form along his brow and the feeling of nausea intensified. But he couldn't leave until he made his choice, and Harry was becoming increasingly aware how much he didn't care for it.

This room was nothing but a place of wish fulfillment, where one would look back at the past. He could make the world into anything he saw fit. But Prez had told him that happiness only came to him when he let others make their own choices. The Fourth member of Endless had been happy as well, leaving the universe to take control of its own destruction. The one time when Harry tried to control everything, was the time when his actions had led to Sirius' death.

Things change, and Harry needed to accept it instead of dwelling in the past. He wanted to get out of the giant warehouse, to return to his world where things were real. Finally, he found an old rubber duck, beaten and worn. Harry turned it over in his hands, relishing in the familiarity.

_Never underestimate the power of a good duck._

"This one," he said, a smile coming to his lips. "It's just what I needed." He gave it a squeeze and the duck uttered a squawk. He felt the energy inside him ease and the rubber duck began to melt in his hands like taffy before vanishing. He blinked in surprise, and he looked up to see that Delight had faded away into Delirium. She was gazing up at him, young again, with a troubled expression.

"Harry," she whimpered, "you have to make certain that you turn left or you won't make it."

It was then Harry noticed the giant warehouse was gone and was in the plain room with Death once more. She was beaming at him, the ferocious lion hat atop her head once more.

"Oh, I'm so glad that you picked the one of the right choices," she said.

"There was a wrong one?"

"Yes," Death said firmly. "You could have changed the past."

Harry stilled. "And what would be wrong with that?"

"I told you, we shape the universe. If you were to change the past in any point in time, you would have rendered our actions obsolete, killing half of the family." Her face turned serious once more. "I would have made it, Delirium travels those paths every day, and Destruction would not have been directly effected since he walked away, but the others would not have made it. The consequences of killing one of us is unsightly, I can't even fathomed what would happen if half of them were replaced."

"You would have _wished_ you were in Hell," Delirium said with a solemn expression. "You would have wished you knew what Hell was."

Harry looked at them aghast. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

Death shook her head. "It was a choice that you had to make Harry. That was one of the unbreakable rules; everyone is allowed to make their own decisions."

"_Hurry up please, it's time_," said Delirium in a sing-song voice.

Death approached Harry, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You'll have to forgive me; I don't do this very often."

She pressed her lips on his; gently prodding them open with a flick of her tongue. Caught off guard, he followed her lead and she breathed into him.

Harry had heard the cliché tales from his roommates, a cross-reference of dirty thoughts, personal experiences, and shameless boasting that often was more tale than truth. He had never deigned to participate in the talk, finding very little attraction to anyone in a more personal level. Draco, in particular, had been particularly mouthy, describing his dalliances with Pansy with effusive detail. He spoke of her kisses in many ways. "Hot" and "hard" were two of his favorite words.

Death's kiss was nothing like their descriptions.

It was cool to the touch, as if Harry was breathing in the winter air that froze his lungs. But her tongue was hot and gentle, and god... it was getting difficult to think. Her hand slid further down his back and the sensation carried down his body, from his chest and his stomach and his legs and his toes and the tips of his ears and...

He could kiss her forever.

And then her arms wrapped around Harry fully and he smelled her, and felt her and for one peaceful moment, he felt vindicated in his acceptance of her. He doubted there would ever be anyone who understood him or accepted him more than she, the gentle woman who stood on the field of a war zone and by the bedside of an old man. She removed her hands but the icy sensation continued, and suddenly it felt warm and soft but there was something pressing into his ribs. He moved his arm to bat it away, but it was difficult to move and he squirmed and he was _**trapped!**_

Harry's eyes opened to see nothing but darkness, and the dirt was pressing all around him. He squeezed them back shut and he began to flail his arms, finding it difficult to move at the site of his grave. But where to go?

Delirium's whisper echoed in his mind. _Turn left._

So he moved to the left, clawing his away amid the sod and the branches that were poking at his ribs. He grabbed one the nearest one at his side, using the extra length to stir the packed mud around him so he could climb. He felt a hand make connection with the surface, the tantalizing sensation of freedom at his fingertips. The icy sensation of Death's kiss was beginning to fade and with it came the need to breathe in. Another hand broke through, and he kicked and scrambled and air hit his face and he gasped with relief. The soil was begin to sink back down and pulled him with it. An elbow, an arm, his waist... never had his body seemed like such a distance.

Harry slammed the stick he had used to dig himself out in front of him in order to catch his breath. The bottom half of his body was still in the soil, but it would be easy enough to get out of. He closed his eyes, and pressed his forehead against the damp earth. When he felt at ease, he opened his eyes and gasped in horror at the thin object in front of him.

He had used a human bone to crawl out.

The bone still had bits of rotted flesh to it, the decaying process stunted by the early winter. Harry moaned when he remembered the family that had died before him. A young son, a sobbing mother, a helpless father, and of the small girl that had been so brave despite her inevitable fate. They had done nothing more but be present from Voldemort came to kill Harry. He had been able to overlook their deaths in October, the knowledge of something greater keeping him focused on his task. But those sorts of thoughts had disappeared along with the power had had stolen from the Endless, making him more human than ever.

_"Fuck."_

Harry gagged as he flung the bone away from him, the satisfaction of Death and her kiss was gone in the presence of something so visceral. He had lain in the earth, his body frozen in time as those unfortunate souls with poor luck rotted beneath him. His body was convulsing back to normal, limbs twitching as blood rushed through his veins once again. Harry kicked himself out of the ground, sobbing with great uneven gasps. He was acutely aware of his loss of power and of his near death as he stared at the tender green leaves in the trees.

Time had surged forward without him.

_Oh cruel April_


	60. CH 56 Breathe

**Chapter Fifty-Six**

**Breathe**

_**But at my back in a cold blast I hear**_

_**The rattle of the bones, and chuckle spread from ear to ear.**_

T.S. Eliot, The Waste Land

* * *

**November**

It was so easy to be in denial.

Ron was only too willing to believe that Harry had gone off on another one of his half thought out quests without telling anyone. It wasn't the first time that Harry had vanished. He never took anyone with him, always disappearing into the night and returning a day later.

Blaise liked to say Harry needed some time away from the idiocy in the room. Seamus and Dean had mad theories of Harry's Death Eater hit list. Cedric never bothered to guess, only saying that Harry was plotting something. Hermione believed that Harry simply needed some time alone to think. Ron believed that she was probably closest to the mark, but he may have been biased.

But as hours stretched into days, it became increasingly apparent that something unexpected had happened. And when they tried to send him a message through the communication Galleon, there was no response. The enchanted coin stayed cold. At the end of the week, when they were gathered around the fire to eat, Ernie said what everyone was thinking.

"Harry's dead."

Ron's stomach, which had been so empty seconds ago, was no longer a top priority. "Don't' say that," he snapped at Ernie. "Harry's not… he can't be." He felt a sudden urge of loathing towards Harry from making them wait in silence without news.

"It's true though," said Neville in a listless voice. "You-Know-Who wanted him dead and Harry would have been back by now."

Ron stood up and the bowl of food clattered on the floor. "So you're going to give up on him?" He really wanted to kick the bowl into the fire, so he did. The action had more force than he thought and it scattered some of the ashes and wood. He heard Daphne give an angry hiss.

"Watch it, Weasley. You nearly burnt off part of my clothes with those ashes. It is not as easy to replace things anymore." She tapped at a burn mark with her wand.

"Please be reasonable Ron," said Hermione, "We are not giving up. We have be to be realistic here and-"

Ron left the cave, not wanting to hear any more of the discussion. He plunked himself on one of the stones that was positioned at the entrance, too angry to stay with them, too scared to leave.

"It's not your fault," whispered Hermione as she crept up behind him.

"I was the last one to see him. I should have followed him or stopped him." Ron sank his head in his hands and recalled the last time he had seen Harry. How could he have walked away from Harry as the Ministry burned around them?

"Harry was a lot more complicated than we ever imagined, Ron. I never really thought about it until recently. He wasn't in our house at Hogwarts, so I thought that he was distant because we don't understand the Slytherins very well. But now I wonder if he was like that to everyone. At times, I felt like Harry was a stranger to me. I think that he was his own worst enemy. We could have helped him with whatever he wanted, but he insisted on going alone.

"We don't know if he's kidnapped or hurt. If we had a burial for him, perhaps we could…" Hermione choked back a sob. "Instead, we are stuck waiting for the next horrible thing to happen and afraid to move in case if he comes back. And this would be easier if we knew what happened to him, if he wasn't alone. Why wouldn't Harry let us in?"

Ron didn't reply. Instead, he reached over and held her hand.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**December**

His ranks had thinned. When Voldemort had been indisposed in the forest that unfortunate October afternoon, there had been an attack at the Ministry. Many of his loyal followers had taken up posts at the Ministry and they had perished in the explosion. Without followers or resources, Voldemort found himself in a position that he had not been in since his time at Howarts.

Eight Death Eaters left in his ranks. The Malfoys, Snape, the Carrows, Avery, and a young one called Theodore Nott were all that were left of his once great circle. The rest were hired hands, cowardly, weak excuses for wizards who were so inept that Lucius wisely kept them away.

Victory should have been his. Instead he was left with the pathetic dregs of wizarding society. Dumbledore was dead and there was no one left to challenge his power. It was he who killed Potter and he was in possession of Hogwarts. Was he not the most powerful of wizards? And yet, he was still struggling to remain in control, as if he was playing a game of chess with some unknown force.

It was fortunate that Snape and the Carrows kept his foothold in the school. It was the parents' fear that kept him in power, but it was a tenuous position. It would only be a matter of time before they would try to revolt against him once again.

But Lord Voldemort was patient. He had spent years working on his goal of crafting the Horcruxes which kept him from Death's grasp. He could wait a few more years, so the young children from the school would grow up respecting him, and serving him, until they finally joined him.

Lord Voldemort could wait.

He had an eternity.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**January**

She had begun smoking, standing at the entrance of the cave and letting the tip of the cigarette be the only sign of life in the dark. Blaise thought it was rather melodramatic of Daphne, an action that didn't quite suit her personality. She was an unsentimental type of person, a beacon of sensibility when others let their hormones dominate. Others had cried, tears streaking down their faces as the looked out hopefully for Harry's return. Daphne's tears were of smoke and ash, a fitting tribute for someone was quite adept at causing destruction. It spoke of how much she missed him, for she had teased Harry mercilessly when he smoked, she found the habit unnecessary.

"You should come inside," Blaise said to her, his breath sending a puff of steam into the frigid air. "You'll catch a cold."

She looked at him with disdain. "Don't try to be comforting, it doesn't suit you. I needed to come out here to get a breath, it's suffocating in there. I can't stand them." Daphne tilted her head back and looked up at the dark sky. "This isn't what he would have wanted."

"Like we know what he would have wanted." Blaise made a face of disgust. "I would have never picked MacMillan as a leader. He's never going give those speeches, the kind of sermon that set fire to peoples' souls and cause action. But Harry saw something in MacMillan that the rest of us couldn't, and we have to respect that."

"Harry liked to keep things quiet, that's the only reason that we aren't stuck in a prison or dead. Now that he's gone, they are spitting in his face by marching right into the public eye. Granger, Thomas, Boot, all of them are so excited by this stupid plan. They forgot that keeping quiet was the reason of Harry's success. We aren't dead yet, but that doesn't mean we should act like morons." She dropped the cigarette, stamping it under her foot with unnecessary force.

They stood in silence, watching the waves crash along the craggy surface of the rocks. The whispers of excited voices deep inside the cave could be heard. Harry had told Blaise that the Dark Lord had stashed an army of inferi in the next cave over. Nobody had ever had the urge to test that theory.

"I'm leaving before they attempt their plan," said Blaise. "You should come with me."

Daphne snorted. "I thought you said we should show faith in our new leader."

"I did." A thin smile came to his lips. "But someone needs to rescue them when they fail. Who would be better than us?"

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**February**

A shove in his ribs jolted Dean from his thoughts and reminded him once more of the tight grip around his wrists.

"Nobody's gonna rescue you, nobody ever does," said the Snatcher. The sentence wasn't given with malice, rather with a sort of resigned attitude.

"What makes you certain?" Dean asked aggressively. He knew he should have kept his mouth shut, but he was so angry with himself for getting caught. He wondered if anyone else had made the same mistake.

The Snatcher grunted. "Your name is on the list of people who are to come here to the Manor. I would have rather taken you to Azkaban, but orders are orders." He led Dean through the dank hallway that smelled of mildew.

Dean followed reluctantly, the chains digging into his wrists. He could make out a cloaked figure coming their way.

"Who goes there?" The voice was a bit familiar to Dean's ears, slightly raspy and weary.

"Just bringing a prisoner," replied the Snatcher.

The figure came closer and Dean could see the pale face of Draco Malfoy peering out in the shadows. Dean clenched his hands, a deep seated urge to attack Malfoy at his fingertips.

"Are you insane?" hissed Malfoy. "The Dark Lord does not want to be bothered with trivial matters. He'd kill you if you awoke him to show off another Mudblood. Take him to Azkaban."

The Snatcher shrugged as he shoved Dean to the ground. "Do with him what you want. I already checked him in the front yard and got my bounty. I don't have nothing more to do with him."

Dean heard a crack of Apparition and Malfoy mutter to himself. "Get up, Thomas. I guess I have to deal with you after all."

Dean climbed to his feet awkwardly, the chains around his feet and wrists making it difficult. He followed Malfoy down a quiet hallway. "You look a little pale, Malfoy. What's the matter? Life not treating you well?"

Draco tugged on his chain, nearly sending Dean onto the floor. "**Shut up**! I'm trying to do you a favor. Right now, I'm the only one who knows about what you did to Hogwarts, and I'm working to hush it up before morning arrives. But it won't do any good if you wake everyone. With any luck, I can send you out to Azkaban without anyone knowing and they'll think you have already been interrogated."

"What's with the change of heart? I thought you hated people like me."

Draco smiled grimly. "My life is ruined and the only person who could have put it back to normal is dead. I disliked you, but that's nothing compared to how much I hate him."

He opened an iron gate. "Stay quiet and no one will know you are here."

Dean could see a small blonde figure curled up in the corner of the room. He knelt down next to her as Draco clicked the lock shut. On closer viewing, he recognized that it was Luna.

"Attention passengers, we will be arriving shortly," she mumbled in her sleep.

Dean gave her a poke when he heard Malfoy walk away. "Wake up."

A pair of large eyes opened and Luna gave a stretch as she sat up.

"Hello, Dean! I had an amazing dream. There were all of these people gathered in a room and they were telling the most wonderful stories. I even saw Harry's uncle there, the fat one with the giant moustache."

"Harry's uncle? What was he like?" He was relieved to see a familiar face, even though she was supposed to be in Hogwarts.

Luna tapped a finger to her chin as she contemplated his question quite seriously. "Fat."

"What are you doing here?"

"Daddy was printing things in The Quibbler but someone cracked the secret code. They took me away from Hogwarts because of it. Daddy stopped printing the paper, but they still don't know about the secret radio broadcasts."

Dean leaned against the stone wall and listened to the occasional drip of water that echoed down the hallway. The relief at seeing Luna's familiar face was beginning to fade and all that was left was listlessness and despair. "I'm a prisoner. I never thought this would be my life."

Luna crawled closer to him and gave Dean's hand a small pat. "A lady in the dream told me there was a storm going on right now and I shouldn't listen to what the thunder says. One day the skies will clear."

Irritation grew in Dean, tired of Luna's calm and irrationality and her stupid dream. "Then what am I supposed to listen to, the lightening?"

"Yes." He could see her smile in the dim light. "Why do you think Harry's scar was that shape?"

The anger dissipated after she spoke; he was too surprised by the connection she made. Dean wondered what it was like to be her, in which nonsensical statements had its own hidden meaning.

He wrapped his arms around his knees and stared at the wall once more. "I wish that someone would come and get us out. But nobody is going to rescue us."

"I know," replied Luna serenely. "Isn't that wonderful?"

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**March**

It had taken him months to crack the code in the Quibbler. Theo had used the knowledge to prove his loyalty to the Dark Lord. No longer did he have to walk around Malfoy Manor with timid footsteps. As far as anyone knew, he was the face of Wizarding society's future. Not Malfoy, not Potter, him. It was a comfortable position which suited Theo well, especially since he used the code for his own gain before he handed it over.

The war was going badly, a tense stalemate of opposing parties. The only reason there was not a pit of bodies in the Thames River was because most people were in hiding. The sheer disdain the Dark Lord felt for everything that did not bear his mark was terrifying. Theo could see no future in this world and had used to code to send out a message, hoping to find Potter alive. Instead, he found Blaise and Daphne.

It was absurd how disappointed Theo had been, considering he had never been fascinated with Potter like others, viewing him as mundane and overhyped. But he knew that Potter would have at least heard him out. Blaise and Daphne had stunned him, trussed him up, and administered Veritiserum before he could even raise his hand in submission. It was only after a lengthy interrogation that they placed tenuous trust in him.

Theo walked along a street in London, making his way to a dark overpass. There wasn't much time to give out the information. In just a few minutes, the sun would set and it wouldn't be safe. No one was out in the dark anymore, not since the dementors had started to swarm.

"They've been caught," Theo said with little preamble to the two unrecognizable faces molded by Polyjuice Potion.

"Who?" asked the female, her austere tone recognizable in the shrill voice.

"All of them." Theo pressed a hand to his forehead as he recalled the incident earlier in the week. "The Dark Lord is talking about a public execution next month."

Blaise gave a bitter laugh. "It is not a surprise; they were trying to break into Hogwarts to find a way to get everyone out. It was only a matter of time before they were caught. What method does the Dark Lord plan to use? The killing curse? Dementor's kiss? Death by water? Dismemberment by giants?"

Theo couldn't help but noticing these few short months had turned them all into miserable cynics. He couldn't remember when the last time he had smiled. Blaise had given him the first sound of laughter in months, and even then it was a hollow sort of chuckle that was more despair than joy.

"Right now he is leaning towards a large display of power. The Killing curse is effective, but does not lend the sort of fear he would like to deliver. I expect it will be gruesome and painful."

"I suppose we have to rescue them."

Theo nodded to the both of them. "Good luck with that. I doubt I'll be able to contact you again before the execution. Just be cautious." He left Daphne and Blaise and made his way back to the grey streets of London.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

**April**

Even though every chair was occupied, the Great Hall was largely silent. The only noise the clink of silverware as the students nibbled at the breakfast. Most of the teachers watched them from the staff table and ignored their own food. The exception to this rule were the Carrows, who were perfectly content to stuff their faces.

Even after eight months sitting in the Headmaster's chair, Snape found the seat uncomfortable as if it were made from stone. He had hoped he would be one day be recognized for his talents, but acquiring the post during the middle of a war was the best he could do. While the people were no longer in any direct danger, the Dark Lord was still in control of Hogwarts, and it was this fear that kept the rest of the populace from attacking.

The Dark Lord was even losing his influence on Azkaban. The dementors that had once guarded the cells had left, traveling the country in search of fresh souls. The Snatcher's responsible for capturing Muggleborns had started an illicit trade of their own, and were willing to free the prisoners for coin. When the Dark Lord had heard of this he had finally decided to take some action. Today, a public execution was scheduled, and everyone at the prison would take a portkey to the Hogwarts' lawn and be sentenced to death. The students were required to attend, with the belief that they would see the hopelessness of any resistance and submit willingly to the Dark Lord's new reign.

Snape was interrupted from his thoughts as a sparkly figure stepped through the doorway of the Great Hall.

"Sybil, what brings you here?" McGonagall stood up as the Divination professor approached.

"The fates have decreed…" she began wearily, but was unable to keep the mistiness in her voice. "My presence was mandatory."

The Carrows descended upon Trelawny as she approached. She spent most of her time in her tower and they were already twitching with excitement at new prey.

"Tell us a fortune," demanded Alecto as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve.

"Yes, is someone going to die today?"

They guffawed in amusement and Snape gave a thin smile to hide his disgust. There was something tantalizingly comforting about their provocation, a familiar memory of McGonagall's own derision of Trelawny's subject.

"All I have in my possession is a deck of tarot cards. They are not the most dependable of mediums." She withdrew the pack from her sleeves.

"A fortune," demanded Amycus. "Now."

She withdrew the deck from her pocket, dividing the cards and pulling out the first one from the deck. "Oooh, it appears we have the man of three staves."

"And what does that mean?"

"Someone has made a perilous journey and found success. He is strong, and has a ready understanding of teamwork, and respects his own virtues. Through his own success he will find the courage to lead others to their final destination."

Snape noticed that McGonagall was watching the scene with curiosity. Perhaps it really was the end of the world, that she was seeking comfort in such a flighty subject. Trelawny pulled out the next card from the deck and gasped in horror. The card fluttered from her hand as she fell to the ground and Snape knew what it was before it landed on the table.

It was the card of Death.

He heard the Carrows cackle with glee as McGonagall led Trelawney to a seat. Snape made his way out of the Great Hall with a determined walk. It was rather amusing that she had pulled out that card of all others. Unlike the Grim, and many other dire symbols in the field of Divination, the card of Death was not ominous. It meant rebirth, change.

Preparations had to be made.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry was many things: manipulative, clever, arrogant, prone to fits of insanity. One thing he never claimed to be was brave, despite his friends' assurances otherwise. To be a hero, Harry believed one needed a healthy dose of fear, a case of denial, and a pinch of stupidity. As such, Harry considered himself a coward of the best kind. It was hard to be scared of terrible things when the Endless were in the back of his mind. And why would he confront a challenge when one could go around it?

Rising from the ground after six months of inactivity left him weak. His body had become thin, and a short walk left him exhausted. The charms he had placed on his clothes had prevented his clothes from deteriorating. He still had his Invisibility Cloak, a small bag of money, and a few random knickknacks. The lion hat that Luna had given him was gone, but Harry was unsurprised. He Disapparated to the small inn he had stayed during the summer and spent a week recuperating, having difficulty with even the most basic of motor functions.

Using a fork was difficult enough, let alone writing something on paper. He was not fit to challenge the Dark Lord. Fortunately, Harry had tied up that loose end when he had made his decision. Rather than choose a world to fit his liking, Harry had stayed in the one he was familiar with and used the power leeched off the Endless to mold his future. And during that week in recovery, he had spent a great deal of time sleeping as he recovered. After one week, he resolved to put the final matter to rest and sought out Lord Morpheus of The Dreaming.

_Harry found a magnificent castle and made his way up the steps to the door. The three beasts that guarded the door made no motion to stop him. Harry followed to corridors that opened, which led him to the open room where Dream sat at his throne._

"_Why do you seek me? Your business with us has finished."_

_Harry nodded. "I know, but I still have one handful of sand and a Dark Lord to finish. I'll give him to you, but I need your help to get there."_

When Harry awoke with some of his old strength restored. He ate quickly, knowing the mass execution was only an hour away, knowledge courtesy of Dream. He barely arrived in time at Hogsmeade to slip inside the secret passageway hidden behind Ariana's portrait. The school was eerily quite as he made his way down the familiar corridors, most of the students were already outside. Harry was under his Invisibility Cloak when the prisoners from Azkaban landed on the Hogwarts lawn.

There were over a hundred of people captured surrounded by dementors, and Harry was chagrined to realize that over half of them were his friends. They were tied to a giant metal wheel with strong chains binding them together. As Harry understood it, they were to be drowned in the lake together as the heavy wheel pulled them to their watery deaths. It didn't take a genius to realize that it would be an unsuccessful attempt. The giant squid was powerful enough to keep the wheel afloat on its own. The mermaid community would probably take action when they realized that something was going on. But Lord Voldemort had probably forgotten that the lake was alive with its own creatures, beings that were beneath him.

Harry walked closer to the chained prisoners and the gathered students as Voldemort began to speak. He could see that Hermione had been chewing at her lip from nervousness. He could see that Draco had gone ridiculously pale as he had begun to sleep in the day and wake at night. He could see the way Theo kept touching at his pocket, as if there was something important that he was hiding.

Voldemort's voice changed into a more exultant tone and Harry knew that it was time to act. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the silk bag. The sand still smelled of something odd, of rain and storms. He raised the sand in his fingertips just as a strong gust of wind and scattered it onto the observing crowd.

Harry did not see the determination that began to fill their eyes nor the way they gripped their wands. He was too busy making his way to a secluded spot in the forest. But he did hear them all cry as one, the magic word.

"_Alohamora."_

And he heard the chains that held the prisoners together snap open. And he heard the inhuman shriek of rage from Lord Voldemort. Harry heard the screaming, and the chants of spells as the exhaustion began to take over him. The sand from Dream was just enough of an impetus to get them to act, enough hope when all they had felt was fear. He turned around to see Voldemort flying through the sky to the Hogwarts gates and Theo Nott handing out wands he had brought with him. But his eyelids grew too heavy, and Harry collapsed into the ground. He closed his eyes and when he opened them once more, he was in a new room.

Harry gave a small smile as he looked at room he was in. He had wanted a prison, a place where Voldemort could stay without being in the waking world and Dream had obliged. The room had seven sides. Six of those sides each had a different window, and the final one had a door. He sat down on the floor and waited. It wasn't long before he heard a crack as Voldemort Apparated into the room.

Harry saw the flicker of surprise on Voldemort's face of his foreign surroundings. But that display of emotion was nothing compared to the anger when he caught sight of Harry.

"You," he hissed. "Impossible!"

Harry smirked. "Improbable. Unlikely. But not impossible."

"I killed you," Voldemort said with absolute certainty. "You were dead."

"I was." Harry gave a shrug as he stood up. "Now I'm not."

"It is an unfortunate situation which can be easily remedied." He withdrew his wand and pointed it at Harry. "_Aveda Kedavra_!"

"Nice try," said Harry as he stared directly in Voldemort's blood red eyes. "Magic doesn't work in here."

Voldemort's nostrils flared. "What do you speak of, Potter? How is this?"

Harry smiled; pleased he had shaken Voldemort with this unexpected turn of events. "Well, magic works when you are in the world and right now, you're not. We are somewhere in between, like that misty place right before waking, or that squeezing sensation when one Apparates." He leaned against the smooth wall. "That is how you got here by the way. You Apparated away from your losing battle at Hogwarts and you never finished before you were captured by the Endless. As far as the world is concerned, you have disappeared. "

"What nonsense do you speak of Potter?"

Harry cocked his head to the side, noticing how Voldemort gripped his wand as if it still mattered and his frightful appearance that portrayed his disconnect with humanity. "The universe doesn't like you and it wants to show you how very small you are."

He saw a thin smile rise to Voldemort's lips and it was followed by a cold laugh. "Potter, I am the most powerful wizard ever, the most daring and I of all people have managed to conquer death-"

"You think you won against Death!" Harry exclaimed. "I crawled out of my own grave site, covered in mud after six months and I still haven't won. You didn't win; you wandered as a weak spirit for several powerless years because of your Horcruxes." Voldemort's eyes widened slightly.

"Oh yes, I know about them, why do you think I went after Nagini?" Harry shook his head. "You like to think you mean something beyond this tiny window of time. Well, I have news. _**You don't**_. The time and space which you occupy mean so little to the universe that the only thing it needed to fix your _**great deeds**_ was me."

"You irritate me. I hate you and most of my life has been shaped with the sole purpose of defeating you. And I have." Harry opened his arms as he displayed the room they were in.

Voldemort stared at him and then his lips curved into a smile. "You haven't won yet, Potter. I am still alive."

"I said defeated. I don't want to kill you; I want to make you suffer." His hands felt clammy and his heart thundered in his chest. "I decided to give you the privilege of a choice. One simple choice: live here or die."

"I will escape this place," Voldemort sneered. "You cannot force me to stay here."

Harry nodded as he circled his enemy, making his way to door. "I know you can escape this place; that is what is so brilliant about it. I told you, we are not in a world. There is no magic, no external forces, nothing but you and your choice." He caressed the frame with his hands

"On the other side of this door, there is a woman waiting. Some call her sister, back in the day it was Teleute, and now people have taken to calling her the Grim Reaper. Death is waiting for you on the other side of this door, and the Horcruxes you have made won't be enough to stop it. Because when you open this door you walk right into her arms. You can walk out whenever you want. I'll be going myself; you can follow if you want." Harry gave a cruel smile. "But I know you won't."

"You're lying," said Voldemort, his red eyes narrowed and his body shaking in anger.

"Mmm.. think what you like. You can stay here in this room for all of eternity if you wish. You don't need food or water to stay alive; the Horcruxes take care of that. But you won't have company, you won't have relevance, and you won't have power. Or you can walk through the door."

Lord Voldemort approached in Harry anger, the emotion thundering through his veins. He may not have magic, but he could strangle the boy with his bare hands. But the boy wrenched the door open and flung himself on the other side, the door slamming shut behind him. Voldemort placed his hand on the doorknob to follow and withdrew it back quickly. When he touched the door, he heard whispers, the same kind that had called out from the veil in the Ministry.

He stared at the door in suspicion. He was uncertain if Potter's words were true, and he doubted that the boy had power to do as he said. But then again, he knew he had killed Potter. He had buried the body in the earth and hexed him to see blood drip from the wound. He waited.

Eventually, his curiosity caused him to reach for one of the six windows. The first one had a soft velvet curtain that shuddered at his touch. He pushed the velvet material aside to see a pedestal through the glass window. Upon the pedestal was a cup, a crown, a necklace and he recognized the objects.

_It is him, a part of him that is familiar and almost warm and it is on the other side of the glass. It taunts him. It was his at one point at time and he wants it back. He wants it back so much; he aches to have it back. Heat rises in his chest and crawls down his limbs, need overcoming his thinking. The glass before him fogs and he presses his hands against the glass to clear his view. But the steam is on the other side and he cannot wipe it away. He presses his hand on the glass, his fingernails grating against the glass and he wails in anger. He must see, he must have, he must…_

And his hands act of their own volition to pull the curtain shut. Voldemort's hands shake as he clenched the material. He did not care for the emotion that took over him.

On the other side of the curtain, Desire is laughing with amusement. Tom Riddle is in her grasp and he cannot escape. And then it walks down the long hallway as another thought occurs to her and she leaves Voldemort and the Horcruxes behind. She walks to the heart of The Threshold and she will not return to him. Already, Desire has forgotten of Lord Voldemort.

Voldemort proceeded for the next window which is covered in a white dingy curtain. He moved it aside and the world twisted and turned and bright lights shined in his eyes.

_He is making his way to a girl, one who towers above him like a mountain. Her hands reach toward him._

_"Hello, Tommy!" The girl says as she bends down and presses a kiss on the window pane. "You look so much nicer than you did when I first met you." Voldemort is aghast that someone dares to reach for him in such a manner, but he sees the moment again through different eyes._

"_Hello, froggy!" The girl says as she bends down to pick him up and presses a kiss on his cheek. "You look so much nicer than you did when I first met you." Her head tilts to the side." I think I like you better this way." _

_He tries to pull away and he is torn for a moment, trying to remember if he is man or frog. He smells alcohol from her lips as she pulled him close to give him another kiss and the curtains in his hands wrap around him in an effort to embrace him. _

Voldemort freed himself from the curtains as he lands on the floor, brushing down his robes. The effects of his temporary madness are still in him and He makes his way to a new window (and new punishment) without pause. He picked one that is covered with a curtain that goes from ceiling to the floor. Designs were stitched in silver thread that decorated it like stars. Lord Voldemort swept aside the curtain to see a child on a chair.

It was a boy about the age of nine. He was clutching a book in his hand, and ignoring the sunny weather outside. Voldemort was peering into the boy's home, observing the home with omniscient eyes.

"Jasper, it's time for dinner." The boy's head nodded slightly as he heard his mother, but did not respond. There is a noise as a back door opens and another child enters. This one was older and clutched a broomstick in his hands.

"Hey, are you going to eat or what?" The brother asked as he kicks off his shoes.

Jasper raised his head and puts his book down.

Lord Voldemort, from his place on the other side of the window, could see the cover. Harry Potter, A History.

The children sit at down at the kitchen table and carry on a normal day. The eldest, a boy called Stephen, argued with his mother over school assignments. Jasper was silent and seemed content to stare out the window and daydream. The mother shook her head and went outside.

"Make certain to eat all of your vegetables," she said. "I have to prune a few of the plants outside."

Stephen scowled as he looked at his plate full of broccoli and sprouts. And then a coy smile came across his face.

"Jasper," he said. "How do you like the story of Harry Potter?" The tone of deviousness is too apparent to someone like Lord Voldemort and he marveled that a child so obvious exists.

"It's amazing. Did it really happen?"

Stephen nodded. "Yup, fifteen years ago."

"Wow." Jasper moved his broccoli to the side and ate some more meatloaf.

"Eat your vegetables, Jasper" his brother commanded, "unless you want Voldemort to come after you."

"What?" The fork fell from Jasper's hand. "What do you mean?"

Stephen's eyes widened. "Oh, you haven't reached the end yet? Harry Potter cursed Lord Voldemort so he couldn't go after anyone anymore. But you have to make sure you eat enough vegetables or he's going to think you're dead and come after you anyway."

Jasper frowned as he looked at his brother. "I don't believe you."

His brother shrugged dramatically. "Fine. Just don't come running to me if he attacks you in the middle of the night."

Jasper stared at his vegetables and began to stuff them in his mouth.

"You know, if your worried could always have mine too." Stephen held out his plate to his brother. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"But then, Lord Voldemort would go after you!" Jasper didn't think he could handle losing his brother.

Stephen smile as he tipped the vegetables on his brother's plate. "Nah, don't worry about me. I'm going into my third year of Salem Academy. I know enough magic to scare him away."

Lord Voldemort withdrew in anger. How insulting to be reduced to a childhood monster, as if he couldn't attack the boy! He raised his wand and uttered a curse, but nothing happened. Then he slammed his fists against the glass, the pounding echoed in his ears, but the children paid no attention and continued to eat. Voldemort tugged at the curtain in rage and began to pace around the room. Anger burned in his veins and he cursed Potter's name and gripped his wand tighter.

Eventually, the anger dulled and curiosity took hold once more. He picked at the window that was shuttered. It took quite some time for Voldemort to remove open it, and when he did he promptly snapped it back shut.

It took only a second for the image to burn in his brain, the feeling of fire, heat, and power that never ended. A star was collapsing on the other side of the universe and no one cared. It was a swirling mass of energy that whirled through time without control. Lord Voldemort did not like feeling small.

The fifth window had a small tattered curtain with many holes but the moisture prevented Voldemort from seeing inside. He raised his arm to remove the fog to see inside a misty room. He saw several rats scamper across the floor and their chatters. And then a figure emerged, on that was grey and squat. He doesn't know how long he stood there holding the tattered frayed curtains, but he was vaguely aware that he has started screaming.

When he finally regained control of himself, he was on the ground. His throat was raw with pain, but there was no water to ease the dryness. Voldemort climbed to his feet shakily and made his way to the last window.

It was square and unremarkable, the curtains smelled old and dusty. And when he looked out of the window he saw a path. It was a twisted and complicated road that intersected with many others. It was dark, and difficult to see exactly what was going on. Ghostly figures wandered across his window and then disappeared. No one looked in his direction; they lived their lives free from his presence.

Lord Voldemort is in a hell of Harry's own vision. He sought to be free from the Endless, but Harry has given Voldemort to them.

.

He is destruction's hand, a blast of power that brings change and new life. Voldemort is hate, the bittersweet side of love. He brings misery and forces people together so they are not alone. The insanity he spread brought clarity and entwined the paths of those who, in another life, might not have met at all. His is the villain, the villain from the story you have read. And yet, for all of his power, he has none. The effects of Voldemort's actions are already fading, becoming memories of a past time. Trapped in between worlds, Lord Voldemort's presence vanishes like dreams upon waking.

Lord Voldemort clutches his wand, staring at Death's door. The curiosity has already begun to gnaw at him.

Time passes.

8 8 8 8 8 8 8

Harry slammed the door behind him. The rage in Voldemort was palpable and he nearly expected the Dark Lord to wretch the door open and come after him. But the door stayed shut. Harry made his way down the cold marble hallway and he stopped when he thought he heard something. Perhaps it was a whisper of some kind, but there was no one around. He had almost reached to door at the end of the hall when it opened.

"There you are Harry," said Death. She was wearing an elaborate black ball gown and her hair was pulled up and pinned with three violet flowers. There was a paper fan in her hand.

Harry rubbed at his clammy hands. "Where were you?"

"At a fancy dress party." She folded the fan in her hand and tucked it inside one of her gloves. "There was a man who drank too much wine and he forgot to order an item without shellfish."

"Oh." He turned awkwardly as he pointed to the door at the other end. "I've finished."

"I noticed."

"How long will Voldemort be in there?"

"For more time than a moon and less than a star," Death replied. "However, you don't need to worry about that since it is no longer your problem." She ushered him inside the room.

Harry saw several comfortable chairs and a table that had two fish in a bowl. One was rather fat and the other was small and they were both swimming in a lazy circle. He reached forward to grab the fish food and tapped some into their bowl.

"That is Slim and Wandsworth," Death said as she removed the flowers from her hair and the curls tumbled down to her neck.

He bent down to get a better look at the fish as they gobbled up the food. "I'm guessing the fat one is named Slim."

"That's right." She laughed. "You know, I **really**like you."

"I'm going to miss you," Harry whispered, still staring at the fish.

"No, I'm afraid you won't." Death tugged at his arm and forced him to face her. "You'll forget soon enough, that's the way it had to be. Otherwise, we will be right back where we started." Death's brushed a few strands on his forehead to the side, her nail scraping alone the scar hidden there. "You'll be just like everyone else, and that's what you have always wanted. I know that about you."

Harry gave a shaky smile as he walked over to the door. He could see the sky from the window and was relieved to see it looked like pleasant weather outside. "Goodbye."

"I'll be seeing you, Harry." She gave another one of her gentle smiles and Harry was filled with an insane want to stay with her.

Harry turned the handle abruptly before he could act and stepped out of her realm. The floor disappeared from underneath him. All he could see was the wide blue sky as he fell, a moment that lasted for an eternity. Then he landed on the ground with the prickly grass underneath him, back on earth. Harry sat up and the sound of wings filled his ears. A flock of birds was climbing into the sky. He watched them turn into tiny dots in before he looked around at his surroundings.

He was in the graveyard of Godric's Hollow, for the tombstone of Ignotus Peverelle was in front of him. Already the memories of the Endless were beginning to fade from his thoughts. He did not think of Despair in her realm, of Dream on his throne, of Desire and its cruel smile. He thought of his friends and the lie he would weave upon his return.

The story came to his mind easily. He had been captured, and forced to live with the knowledge of his failure as Voldemort taunted him. He was to be the last death in a mass execution, and when Voldemort died, he had been freed. They didn't need to know of the nightmares, broken hearts, and a room full of possibility. Perhaps he would even be kind and keep that promise to Draco, suggested that Dumbledore planned to die all along.

Harry thought he heard laughter behind him as he left the gravesite, but saw no one around.

He did not see Delirium, who was perched upon the headstone. But she saw him and she sees You and she smiles in her terrible way.

"I had great fun and I hope you did too. Bye, bye," she says with a wave.

Harry walks down the cemetery road of Godric's Hollow and wonders of his future. Perhaps he will become a dragon tamer or a world traveler. He wonders if he will love anyone and he thinks of dark hair and a kind smile and thinks that no one could compare. But the memory slips through his fingertips like sand and the thought is gone.

Harry exits the cemetery and steps into life.

**I have heard the languages of the apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence.**

**~Endless Nights**

**Complete.  
**


End file.
